For the next few days Sulpicia Cancellieri busied herself on the pretence of her trip; she had poured over the information sent to her by her husband, Aro, to find the best covens to visit upon her power-driven journey in the name of the Volturi. She had told Aro that for the first week of her trip she would be staying around the local covens; the ones that she could put pressure on so that word of her journey would spread. That way, when she reached those covens further away, they were all already aware of her intentions.
Her real plan was quite different; during her dire planning for the past few years, she'd heard of a witch that had powers far superior than those Sulpicia had acquired, and she wanted to learn more. The witch was a stop along the way to the Volturi Queen's main destination, or so she'd heard: Romania; in that coven resided the only vampires that could and would be strong enough to help her take down the coven she once so dearly adored. The Cullens, though strong enough as proven from the short rebellion years ago, had made it clear that they wouldn't fight against the Volturi unless provoked; so, to Sulpicia, they were a lost cause.
It had taken three days to refine her real and fake plans to get the latter approved by her husband; once approved, a further week to obtain everything she required for the former. She would be travelling light, but the vampire Queen needed to ensure that she had her magic supplies on her, or at least close by. She had committed her books to memory and burned them in a ceremony to ensure that they would never be found, thus their magic would be instilled within her veins; and after that, the power that coursed within her became nothing she could have ever forseen. A radiant white cloud seen only by her that surrounded her, infused with magic and flowed in and out of her with every unneeded breath she took.
On the day of her departure the sun shone specially bright, and because of it she had to wait until dusk to take action; she slipped on her travelling clothes, ensured she had all her supplies strapped to her legs under her dress and within the confines of her jacket on her arms, prior to her placement of the custom Volturi cloak to show her fake loyalty.
With the clock striking ten, Sulpicia glanced around her room. It was a quiet life there, she was safe, yet she was nothing more than a plaything for her husband, and insignificant in the lives of the rest of the coven. She had no destiny there, no place, and because of it, she knew she needed to go make one for herself. So she lifted the hood of her cloak up and over her features, departing the room atop the tower for the last time; she almost felt guilty for leaving her dear friend Athenadora behind as she gracefully descended the winding staircase and passed by her door, but she knew that she couldn't afford any mistakes, nor any obstacle that would slow her down. There was simply no option; she had to go alone. All she could do at that moment was promise herself to come back to the place she once called home to save her friend; she knew it was time for her to say goodbye to her husband.
Only, Sulpicia knew that it was forever.
Levels lower in the castle, Aro Cancellieri sat uncomfortably in a wire chair on a small terrace overlooking a forgotten part of the gardens. The sun was hiding steadily from the clouded blue sky, and wind was rusting the fruit trees dotting the nearest vein of the foliage. They had sat buried, untouched for years; it was a wonder that they had lasted as long as they had, wilting away and being their ugly selves. It had been his wife, Sulpicia, to insist upon them being planted. Among the roses, pansys, haycinth, and Violets, there stood nine trees seasonally fruiting and dropping, rotting against their roots and sending the vile fragrance among the delicately scented flowers for months out of the year. Aro probably had dedicated a quarter of his life to inhaling Sulpicia's putrid fruits. "My love?" Came the words from the voice of that very delicious creature he thought of at that moment, making Aro's features illuminate only shortly.
"We truly should do something about those gardens, don't you think?" He asked, continuing to study the dead foliage below him with calm struck eyes. "Perhaps when you come back you can teach young Queen Anne how to take care of your old trees."
"Perhaps." Sulpicia allowed after a very short silence in which she had forced herself not to roll her eyes at Aro's obsession with his new recruit. "Everything is in order." She announced then, stepping into the terrace and forcing a genuine grin upon her lips; only genuine because it shone with the promise of her freedom; something only she knew, of course. "It's time for me to depart Volterra and head to my first destination." The moment she was able to, she placed a hand on Aro's shoulder, preparing her mind for any probable intrusion to come.
Just as predicted, Aro took his wife's gesture instinctively as a welcome to read her; seconds later, his own hand had risen to touch the porcelain skin of his wife's digits and squeezed lightly, all without even daring a look up at Sulpicia. "You have left your itinerary?" He wondered, using the moment as an excuse to take in everything that he had access to in his wife's mind, dismissing the troubling static that mirrored the one he had experienced days prior when he had first spoken to her about the amazing plan. It had to be his age finally showing in one way or another.
Yet Sulpicia knew that wasn't the case; for it took everything within her to show Aro what he wanted to see. She could feel him pulling the implanted thoughts from her head, and she remembered that she hadn't married a stupid man. She knew he would become suspicious, yet she hoped that the inevitable suspicion arose eons of time later; or at least until she'd left Volterra, when Aro would send someone after her, and then she would finally see the one person she wished she could have informed of her departure other than her dear friend Athena. If only I could see him before I left... Sulpicia shook the thought from her head before she allowed it to reach Aro. "I am all set." She quickly said, giving her husband's hand a gentle squeeze before pulling it back, making sure to not make the motion any quicker than usual. "Thank you for assisting me and allowing me this travel." Watching as Aro rose from his seat and faced her, Sulpicia forced another smile to shine across her features. "Will you wish me farewell, my love?"
Aro's steps took him close to his wife moments before he reached for her elbow gently in order to pull her closer, knowing that, regardless of the metaphorical distance his dear Sulpicia had put between them, it would always be layered in history. "Of course I will." He allowed, his eyes taking her in and roaming over her frame before smiling. The adventure she was embarking on was bold, and it prided him, it made him see his wife in such a different light that he almost promised himself he'd try harder to reach her when she returned from her journey. Almost. Regardless, he leaned down to press cool lips against Sulpicia's forehead and lingered there for a calm moment. "Enjoy your travels." He wished, smiling once before allowing a sealing kiss against her lips to ensure their goodbye. "Make us proud, my dear."
"I will." Sulpicia lied, giving a curt nod, a small smile and a forced gentle caress to Aro's cheek. And with that, Sulpicia Cancellieri turned on her heels; lifting the hood of her cloak one more time and ensuring that she was covered from head to toe. Sulpicia tried to not put a skip in her step as she headed towards her freedom; she truly did hate the thought of leaving Athenodora behind, but she knew she had to.
A few members of the guard were standing in the main throne room as she walked - nearly ran - through, and her eyes darted over to him. Their eyes met, and she nearly pled for a silent forgiveness the moment he smiled in her direction, her dead heart metaphorically skipped a beat as she forced herself to look away, making her eyes unwillingly land on the newest addition to the guard: Anne Boleyn. A brow rose in Sulpicia's features the moment the once Queen looked down in respect, and with a roll of her eyes that she hoped the new recruit missed, Sulpicia made her way out of the castle and beyond the walls of the Volturi lands. And then she began to run, further and further away she fled, and never dared to look back.
In the throne room Anne Boleyn frowned shortly as she looked in the direction the Volturi Queen had disappeared in; whispers echoed around her, curious and continuous as she forced herself to stay in the place she had been ordered as one of the first few duties in her newly given responsibility. There was something that bothered her about the manner in which Lady Sulpicia had left the castle, and she couldn't exactly put her finger on what.
See, there was one thing that she would never forget about what being a royal was like; and that was the manner in which one had to pretend for the good of the people - or even worse, the King himself- to be in agreement with some decisions she could not dream to ever have a say in. Having to wear a smile that communicated forced joy upon the decisions of a man who burnt with power, Of course, my Lord. One, twice and again until she felt like she was about to explode. That memory was exactly the reason why she felt strange upon the Volturi Queen's departure. During her ordered patrols around the castle, and her scheduled shifts to keep guard in the throne room, Anne had heard many of the conversations between the Lords of the Volturi family and Lady Sulpicia; and even on small free times she had heard such as well. It was as if the limited freedom she had been provided with by becoming part of the Volturi guard had finally sunk in; she was able to leave her room even when Alec wasn't with her, or even when she wasn't doing any of her duties as guard. To a limited level, of course; Anne still wasn't completely allowed to every level of the castle; not on her own, at least. And because of this, she had become highly aware of the departing Queen.
She had been witness to Sulpicia's cautious movements more than once, and at first she had thought it'd been purely her imagination; wondering deep inside why anyone would find the Volturi castle as a place of discomfort, due to Chelsea's manipulations of the bond she held with the Coven, unbeknownst to Anne of course. But what struck the once Queen the most, had been the manner in which she recognised the nearly automatic manners in which Sulpicia Cencellieri referred to Master Aro, who, as Anne was very much aware, was the departed Queen's husband. She recognised the way her smile didn't reach her eyes; the manner in which her every action seemed calculated, almost as if she were thinking severely about every single step she took. It was something Anne Boleyn was sure no one that hadn't been in Sulpicia's place could understand, nor see. And it was strange for her to be able to even recognise such things, for she could either understand them too well or wonder if she understood them at all. Whichever the case, Anne knew it wasn't her place to wonder.
Yet, of course, she couldn't help the curiosity and strangeness that beat at her at that very moment after watching Sulpicia leave through the front doors. It'd been the manner in which she'd moved that had left Anne wondering; the short glance at the man across the room in which she could see him look at Sulpicia the way Anne could swear Alec looked at her, and more than anything the look Sulpicia gave the man prior to looking her way that made her think something else was going on. It haunted her mind with pure curiosity and a small hint of fear as she stood in her place, wishing she could run and write about it, or draw, or tell someone that could calm her dire wonderings and tell her she was only imagining things. Because, why would anything be wrong in the coven she called her family? Why would anyone not be happy in the place she called home?
It would haunt her for a very long time; regardless of the destination, regardless of the company, until she could get some answers. Anne Boleyn would ask herself: Why?
To Be Continued.