Author's Note: Wow! I never expected to receive such a wonderful response to the last chapter. It's now official: I have the best readers in the world. ^_^

Also, on a small side note, Sonata was featured as a recommended fic on "Altered Lions and Sacrificial Lambs". For this, I must again thank my loyal readers and reviewers. Without you, I would have given up on this story long ago.

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Stephenie Meyer's work.

Chapter Eleven

After they purge Venice of its sweetest blood, Aro and Sulpicia return to his ancestral home in the countryside. Unsurprisingly, the mossy courtyard plays host to a pair of trim, black coaches. Aro recognizes the stately vehicles at once and he smiles carefully at the grey-cloaked groom who attends to the horses.

"I believe, my dear, that we have company," he tells Sulpicia. And succumbing to a nervous urge, he clasps her hand tightly.

Together, they slip through the shadows and into the shelter of the arched doorway. Sulpicia balks on the threshold.

"I can hear their worry," she whispers. "It rivals a pizzicato. Must we go in?"

Aro runs his thumb along her defined cheekbone. The watery light of dawn trickles through a dead grapevine overhead. "You have nothing to fear."

"They will kill me. I am a pariah."

"Such nonsense." His finger trails to her lips, still swollen from insistent kisses and the lasting lust for blood. "You are nearly as skittish as Cassandra in Agamemnon's house. I swear, there is no Clytemnestra within."

Sulpicia's expression is vague. "Your brothers will suffice."

Aro tries to ignore the nagging anxiety her sentiments provoke. He assures himself with the thought that he is Caesar, the beginning and end of all things. Marcus and Caius must defer to him. "Do not linger so long on the threshold," he tells her. "I'd rather you cross the Rubicon with me."

She flashes her teeth at him, adopting the same indifference that he has come to recognize as her only proper defense. "As you wish." And she crosses into the house with the mien of a subdued captive. "The die is cast, husband."

Inside the villa, Caius and Marcus await them, two creatures of decadence so very out of place amongst the rotting, palatial furnishings.

Aro opens his arms in greeting. He is keen to continue the pantomime of gentility. "Brothers. I must say you were not entirely unexpected. See here my most worthy bride, Sulpicia." And he ushers his wary mate forward.

She offers Aro a somber glare, but accepts the low bows and murmured well wishes of the Volturi brothers.

Caius reaches forward and kisses her hand. "My lady."

Sulpicia folds her fingers into a fist and pulls away, scalded by his restraint. Turning to Aro, she touches the exposed flesh of his neck, below his chin and above his collar.

They want to kill me. I am an inconvenience.

But Aro only laughs. High and loud. "My dear, you are much too paranoid." He sends her into an adjoining chamber, to sit amongst the dust and cobwebs until Marcus and Caius might be appeased.

Sulpicia leaves reluctantly and her skepticism haunts him long after she is gone.

At last, the brothers are alone. As gentlemen, they arrange themselves around the same table Aro had once courted Sulpicia across during their wedding night. They are situated in an uncomfortable circle, Arthurian knights instead of pompous kings.

Aro drops his pretense of civility and observes his brothers plainly. He will not speak first.

Caius readily accepts the rare honor.

"I do hope your mind is not clouded with inconsequential nonsense," he says shrewdly.

Marcus moves his hands over the table, a plain gesture meant to pacify any rising tempers.

Aro, however, is still lost to the passion of his recent union and he offers Caius a cutting glare. "You would call me careless?"

"Not so much careless as inconsiderate." Caius steeples his fingers, the sleeves of his robes billowing out across his lap. "If you recall, brother, Sulpicia was condemned to die."

"Indeed." Aro's nostrils dilate and there is a certain tensing of his shoulders. Beneath the calloused layers of practiced indifference, he is wounded. Caius, the most cunning member of the triumvirate, has never doubted him.

"We have overturned such verdicts before," he continues, his jaw working stiffly as the words slip off his tongue. "Sulpicia's desertion was not so much a case of betrayal, but rather, confusion. I shall take the blame for her actions, for I was the one who drove her to desperation."

Marcus raises a brow. "I am impressed."

"And I am certainly not heartless." Distracted, Aro gnaws at his nails, then forces his hand back to the arm of his chair. "What would you have done in my position, Caius? Would you have handed Athenodora over to be killed?"

Caius snorts, his face pinching, his flesh suddenly shedding its youthful vitality for the pallor of the dead. "That is an unfair question. Athenodora was not so unmanageable."

"And neither is Sulpicia. But ah, you seemed to disposed to abhor her."

"I never said such a thing." Caius shifts. His temper flairs, leaving them all distressed.

And yet, it is Marcus who loses his patience first. "Enough," he says, rubbing his brow with the palm of his broad hand. "Sulpicia is not a threat, Caius. That we know. But Aro, will you not at least acknowledge our concern? You courted your wife in the shadows."

"I used discretion," Aro bites back.

"We would rather you had been frank," Marcus replies. "This sudden union upsets our balance of power. A guard has now been raised to the status of wife. There is confusion in all of this. Will you not accommodate our concerns?"

Aro sits back and chews the corner of his mouth. "As much as I am able too."

"There is another matter that troubles me," Caius put in, his tone subdued. "Will Sulpicia's intemperance endear her to the rest of our family? I think not."

And where the fire had been quenched, it rages anew. Aro stands abruptly. "You use illiberal speech against my mate, brother," he says.

Caius seems ready to respond with matching fury, but Marcus steps between them.

"We shall put our argument to rest," he says firmly. "Sulpicia is not so much intemperate as she is aloof. There is no reason why she should not be welcomed in Volterra and awarded her rightful place amongst us. However, these things do take time. Why not enjoy your honeymoon, Aro. Let Sulpicia stay here or in Venice for a short while. She will adjust and I daresay, she will be happy. After all, do you not owe her such happiness?" His words are heavy.

Aro stiffens at his brother's insinuation. Sulpicia was never content to stay in Volterra…

He lowers himself back into his chair with a resolute frown. "I appreciate your suggestion, Marcus, but it is not needed. We will return to Volterra at once. Sulpicia must be accepted by our family. I expect nothing less."

"Brother." Marcus reaches for Aro, but is brushed away.

Caius sighs.

"This is my final say in the matter." Aro gazes at both of them. His eyes are an uneasy black.


Author's Note: For the record, I don't think Sulpicia and Aro will be exchanging their angst for marital bliss just yet. They must have drama!

On another, not unrelated note…

I have no plans of ending this story any time soon. As it is, this is the first time I have attempted to write a fic without fully outlining the plot. Rest assured, I have plenty of ideas to keep this story going, although, I am entirely open to my readers' opinions. Therefore, if you have something you would like to see in a future chapter (or wouldn't like to see), let me know! I always try to accommodate my readers to the best of my ability.

Thanks again for reading! I hope you have a lovely week.