VII.
When Bella awoke, the stretched stains of shadows upon the floor indicated that it was only moments after dawn, and the carefully smoothed sheets beside her, no longer bearing the inimitable scent of Aro's skin, spoke that he had departed long before a pewter sun had smeared the sky.
Moving a sleep-heavy hand, she ran seeking fingers over the satin-edged pillow and brushed a folded slip of parchment onto the floor. Immediately jolting awake, she fumbled beneath the bed's dusty frame until she retrieved the note and eagerly uncreased it.
The paper was thick, the colour of curdled cream in the dim light, and the words on it were written in precise letters, spiked and graceful. Rubbing bleary eyes, Bella read in frenetic gulps.
My sweet Bella,
Although it pains me, I cannot be by your side when you wake. Guests are expected shortly, and I must be present to prepare and welcome them.
These visitors are old friends, covens that have supported the Volturi for decades, at very least. They are not, however, known for their restraint or reticence towards human blood. For this reason, I ask that you remain in your chambers unless accompanied by a member of the guard.
Jane will remain with you, to ensure your safety.
There was a signature at the bottom of the page, and a carefully underlined date, as though Aro wished to remind her that the time of grace before the promised transformation was nearly at an end. This knowledge was iron upon her thoughts, before the notion of tiny, venomous Jane acting as her keeper overwhelmed Bella with a different sort of fear.
[-]
When Bella stepped out of the bathroom with steam-softened skin and sodden ringlets scented with thyme, she was met with the unwelcome sight of Jane sitting upon a chair.
"What are you doing here?" the human girl nearly yelped, immediately ashamed of the shredded fear her voice revealed.
"Watching you. What does it look like?" Jane said coolly. Her drab hair fell neatly onto her forehead, grazing her ears in lifeless strips while the sailor-collared dress she wore seemed to be chosen to convey a schoolgirl's sweetness. Nonetheless, her gaze was terribly old, almost ugly in its misplaced cynicism.
Self-consciously, Bella tightened her arms around herself. "Could you not do that while I'm in a towel?"
"No."
She was so close to throwing back a sarcastic snort of a reply, the sort of wrath-tinged scorn that she reserved for slender, blonde students at her high school before Bella remembered the nature of the girl in front of her, the barely leashed hatred she possessed.
"I'll just go into my closet to change, then," she announced, hoping that her extraordinarily vigilant companion would not follow her there.
"Fine." Jane remained seated, studying her distorted reflection in polished shoes.
[-]
When Bella emerged, dressed in the most casual skirt she could find, Jane was still perched upon her chair in silent reflection. Perhaps it was best to leave her that way, she decided, and crossed patterned marble to put as much distance as she could between her sentinel and herself.
Her eyes fell upon the dust-filmed desk that seemed to be placed in her room merely as a prop, or because there was no other place for it within the cavernous halls. Incongruously, there was a stack of envelopes upon it, and rough-edged paper, heavy and cream-toned as the scrap of parchment that Aro had left by her side. Upon closer observation, Bella noticed that there were stamps as well, and a collection of pens.
"Does Aro want me to write to someone?" she asked, picking up empty sheets and examining their watermark, a swirling crest centered about the letter V.
"Master Aro did not say." Jane's voice remained colourless. "If you write to your parents and undermine whatever excuse the Cullens have produced, you will be punished."
"I figured."
Bella sat down neatly and began searching for thoughts to pen to Edward, sweet lies of ink and vellum. Already, she was forced to gouge away the present in roughened shards to find remnants of the chocolate-eyed girl who had dreamed of lilac-tinged kisses. The first strokes of the pen rent her integrity into colourful scraps.
Dear Edward,
I miss you.
Although she had bled sentimentality once, this was all she could spare to stain the page. Instead, practical matters etched themselves into words.
I'm sure you have Alice watching Aro, waiting for him to transform me. It'll be soon, probably by the time you receive this letter. I don't want you to worry; it's not so bad here. Everyone is trying to be nice, as best they can. Volterra isn't home, but I can manage.
Listen, I don't know how soon I can come back to Forks. There's so much to learn here, and I don't want to be a burden to everyone when I'm a newborn. In a few years…
She hastily scratched away that phrase. There was no future away from Aro, and she was not cruel enough to exchange deception for hope.
Tell Alice that I miss her so much, and pass on my love to Jasper, Rosalie, Emmett, Esme and Carlisle. I don't know what you told Jake, and my parents, but if there's any way you can let them know that I think about them every day, I'd be grateful for it.
I love you.
She signed her name hastily, and folded the little note into a handful of squares, willing the half-truths to diminish into irrelevance as the paper vanished into an envelope's embrace.
"Jane, where can I mail this?" Bella asked reluctantly.
"Just give it to me. I will place it on Gianna's desk."
The dark-haired girl coughed, attempting to coax a polite denial from stiffened vocal chords.
"I won't read it," the vampire hissed. "Do you truly believe that I am curious about your inane scribblings?"
Bella gnawed upon her fingernails, unwilling to part with her flimsy farewell to the Cullens. It seemed unjust, treacherous almost, to allow an inferno-eyed child to touch something so intimate.
"Please, let me mail it. I'll be quick," she pleaded.
"You will most likely be eaten by the guests," Jane dismissed.
"Not if you come with me. Nobody's going to bother me if you're there." It was a shameless appeal to vanity, but Bella was certain that the delicate girl appointed to accompany her would never allow doubt about her talent to remain unchallenged.
"Very well. Follow me."
[-]
As Jane led her through meandering, sunless passages, Bella began to hear the smooth sweep of vampiric voices. The languages were jumbled, a chant of beautiful, unknown syllables even to her untrained ears.
"Can I see?" she whispered, glancing at her companion. She knew nothing about vampires, and the notion of seeing more of them, scattered nomads and covens, was as intriguing as it was deadly. The promise of viewing Aro from afar only lent purpose to her steps.
"No," Jane commanded, but Bella had already slipped away. She followed her ears, though the dainty immortal at her side was whispering reprimands.
After a few moments of rushing, rapid footfalls, Bella found herself standing in the bleak corner of a gallery, overlooking a coolly-lit atrium. Beneath her, the Volturi, curiously lacking their customary cloaks, intermeshed with vampires that she did not recognize.
In moments, her mind began seeking patterns, trying to comprehend the crimson-eyed tableau before her.
Bella could spot the mated pairs even from a shadowy distance. There was something in their expressions, in their eyes, to which she could not assign a name. She saw it in the way Chelsea clutched Afton's hand, in Caius' lingering gaze upon Athenodora. Even amongst the foreign vampires, who wove around one another in tangled, trailing clusters, it was simple enough to spot lovers. Their bonds were too delicate, too indefinite to be compared to gravity; it was something far more elemental that bound them.
She could see the same mercurial attraction twisting itself around Aro and Sulpicia, winding and warping them into complementary creatures.
Before Bella could restrain herself, a choking snarl of some jagged, thrashing emotion tore itself from her throat and her fingers turned to claws around the envelope she clutched, leaving deep creases in pristine paper.
[-]
Sulpicia cocked her head towards the pooling darkness of the gallery, her clever eyes narrowing. Excusing herself with a brush of gentle fingers over her companion's arm and a gleaming, glorious smile, she ghosted away.
Moments later, she stood before Jane and Bella, a garnet-eyed goddess. The bloody gemstones sprinkled over her neck crafted the image of a slit throat, spilling crimson crystal upon flesh.
Immediately, the little vampire stammered an explanation, moving closer to her mistress's side.
"Shh, dear one," Sulpicia breathed, and Bella noted the way scarlet-tipped nails threaded their way through Jane's mouse-coloured hair, in a gesture that could only be considered affectionate.
The golden immortal eyed the human girl with something like curiosity upon her feline features. Then, she smiled, as though she was speaking to a wayward yet adorable puppy.
"You do not belong here," she sang, and the words were a silvery glissando, cutting sharply through the thrum of blood in Bella's ears and the sterile taste of fear that filled her mouth. "Do not wander. It is not safe.
Sulpicia turned away then, quickly giving Jane's hair a final pat before her silent steps returned her to the knot of polished voices beneath them.
[-]
As Jane dragged her away, sibilant wrath escaping between ground teeth, Bella finally found a name for the sentiment rising in her belly, fierce and coiling. It was not fear, and its intensity, the chemical burn of this unprecedented emotion, was too great for mere dislike.
She loathed Sulpicia, with the sort of shattered bitterness that she had never before experienced in eighteen years of feathery existence. That woman had dared dismiss her, as something too paltry to be considered an opponent, a plaything to be coddled. She wanted, more than anything, to scream that Aro loved her, that she was odd and lovely and gifted, while Sulpicia was merely an ornament to be discarded in the very near future.
Grimly, Bella realized that those words would be meaningless if they came from a blossom-coloured mouth, accompanied by the flushed petals of her cheeks and the staccato of angered breathlessness.
"I'm asking Aro to turn me," she announced, ceasing her stride. The pronouncement was strident, shrill in the cobwebbed silence of an airless corridor.
The witch child gave no indication that she had heard. She did not pause and her gaze remained fixed upon the middle-distance. A tiny twitch of the lips, a tic or perhaps something else entirely, was the only response Bella received.
The letter in her hands was mangled beyond recognition.
Author's Note: I apologize for the lack of Bella/Aro in this chapter. On the bright side, Ms. Swan is showing signs of growing a spine, and on the even brighter side, there will be lots and lots of Bella/Aro in the next chapter. Dare I suggest lemons?
An enormous thank-you to everyone who reviewed and favourited.
