-i-
imperatoria maiestas eius
THE tolling of the grand clock in central square only faintly registered in Aro's mind as he stood in a stone alcove overlooking the lush gardens. He had witnessed the sun finish and reassume his dutiful marathon many times over and had long ago found little reason to keep celebrating it every forsaken hour. Time was not a scarce resource and as such did not beg for the sentimentalities so thrust upon. But to hold people to standards they would never understand enough to meet was a waste of energy, and so he found within himself the restraint to resist ripping the copper bell from its yoke. Small mercies bestowed upon humanity he would never be canonized for.
Aro stood a black silhouette stark against the brightness streaming through the window from that golden late summer glow of Tuscany. His lines were sharp, crisp, not a strand of hair out of place. He was completely motionless, devoid of even eye movements. His gaze was caught on a sprig of one of the Italian cypress trees that framed a square around the fountain where mischievous cherubim splashed and played. The tree luckily was not truly the focus of his scrutiny, merely an object to rest on. Aro's true line of sight was far away from the cypress sprig, far away from Volterra, far away from anything in the realm of comfort. And Aro made it his imperial duty to, as God, call the earth his footstool.
Perhaps it was finally his pride that too caused him to fall as lightning into humility. Or humiliation, as he certainly perceived it to be. Such a fine line between the two in the opinion of the man who was self-appointed judge, jury, and executioner of an entire race. A soft but derisive scoff escapes the facade of placidity as Aro realizes the irony of finally drawing a comparison between himself and Lucifer, as so many had before him.
What the holy book fails to cover, he mused, is how Lucifer handled his humbling in the immediate aftermath.
A soft crease formed betwixt his brows as he discerned a part of him would consider a demonic biography on the same wavelength as a peer-reviewed article.
The feeling of utterly not having the faintest clue with how to proceed was a sensation that was foreign to Aro, and received with much the same welcome as the bubonic plague. I suppose I had much more of a handle on the actual plague than this. Visions of the unfettered gluttony with which he and his comrades gorged themselves during the mass deaths flitted across his memories. No, I am, for perhaps the first time, well and truly out of my element.
Aro closed his eyes and inhaled deeply and unnecessarily to once again clear his mind. He often pictured a dense deciduous forest as a mental exercise when tranquility was required in the midst of the chaos. And he certainly ruled his mind a ravaged war zone in that moment. If he focused long enough, he could almost feel the way the soil would push between his bare toes; he could almost hear the way the insects would trill their symphonies in the near-dusk.
He could almost breathe.
Suddenly flashes of barely-olive skin and dark blue eyes began to dance across the King's Wood. Aro tensed immediately at the most unwelcome intrusion to his last hope for peace. His forest became a battlefield, where he darted behind trees and ran with all his might to escape this, to force this to bow to his will and vanish itself from existence.
Aro's eyes snapped open with a snarl with the greatest breach of privacy:
The birdsong and plaintive crickets' refrain was usurped by the grating cacophony of a human heartbeat.
Author's Note:
Hello, all! I have had this thought for a story that has plagued me for some time now, and I finally have gotten around to writing it down. Some chapters will be quite short in length as this one, some might be longer. I have no goal intended as far as length, I just want to do this idea some justice. This will be an Aro/OC story, and for the plot requirements, Sulpicia does not and has never existed as Aro's mate. Perhaps she is living with another mate in Singapore, but she is just not here. Apart from that, everything in this story is canon-compliant with everything from the Twilight Saga. This story takes place quite a few years after the events in Breaking Dawn, in 2047. I don't imagine the world in all honesty to be that far more technologically advanced than we are currently.
If you feel moved to leave a review, positive or negative, feel free. Just as I will feel free to not acknowledge them if they are unnecessarily rude and unhelpful.
Disclaimer:
The Twilight Saga is the property of Stephanie Meyer, and as such I claim no ownership, authorship, or profit based on anything related to the series. I lay no claim to any and all recognizable characters and plot events, and do not wish to. This disclaimer applies to every chapter that will be uploaded to this work of fanfiction.