Disclaimer: All characters from Blade, Underworld, and Twilight belong to their respective creators. Not me. Also (I feel the need to clarify this), I don't usually write stories that include profanity. However, in the case of these three universes, omitting the "bad words" would compromise the characters, which I'm trying my best not to do. So, that being said, there is some mild profanity in this story, and I dearly hope that doesn't offend anyone, but it was a choice I felt I had to make. Please note the rating. Thank you.

Author's Note: Please be aware that this fic takes place after the conclusion of Breaking Dawn, and there are spoilers everywhere. So if you haven't read Breaking Dawn and you don't want any surprises ruined for you, please stop here.

Also - Not really used to working with the Volturi or their guard, so if they're out of character I offer my apologies. I tried to do my research, so hopefully I'm not too far off the mark. =)

Blood Trust

by Amos Whirly

Chapter 17: Facing the Ancients

I am not certain what I expected to find when the Lycan Kannus led our motley group into the old church sanctuary. Yes, there were many Lycans, which I had anticipated. And there did seem to be a great many of vampires around, not of the Higher Coven. I know my race when I see them. They will be quick work.

The church is dark and cold, apparently, as I can hear the chattering of Abby and King's teeth. For being a church, though, the décor reminded me more of some of the dungeons I have walked through.

At the very front of the sanctuary, poised on a dais, are three throne-like chairs, each occupied by a man—or what used to be a man. It is these Volturi creatures themselves.

They are not what I expected.

To call a vampire an elder or a master evokes in me an image of Victor or Markus or even Emilia, but as I know now the three elders of my coven were but infants to these Volturi creatures. Perhaps my coven's Markus was older, as he was the first. But I doubt it.

Victor was stalwart, slender but powerful, in his human form. Emilia was grace incarnate. Markus was strength and beauty personified in human form, and in his other form, he was a devil—more bat than human, with fierce wings, sharp teeth, and a lust for blood only rivaled by his brother William.

These three elders are completely different.

They are cool. Cold, even. Detached. They sit with regal authority, smile with royal allure, as though they are kings of the world. Perhaps they are. One of them reaches up to scratch his nose as we approach them, and the grace of such a menial action causes me to stare. I doubt these creatures walk; they likely glide. So old and so strangely beautiful—with skin like paper and eyes that have seen far too much.

The very room itself is full of their ancientness. The gaze of their bloody red eyes overflows with knowledge of history long forgotten. And I, with all my strength and eons of experience, am tempted to feel threatened standing in the same room with ones who possess such great power.

Michael must sense my distress for he touches my hand gently. He will never know how much I needed his presence at that moment.

As we continue to approach, I turn my gaze to the front of the dais where two children stand—a boy and a girl. Twins, perhaps? They resemble each other. Both are vampires of this Highest Coven, red eyes and marble skin. I do not need to be a mind reader to know that they are set on destroying us. The girl looks particularly fierce.

Behind the three thrones stand two women, grown, but also vampires. One stands behind the morose Volturi member on the side. The second woman stands behind the Volturi in the front—Aro, I shall assume it is. The second woman appears to have a kind heart if the expression on her face is any indication of character, and I wonder what she is doing here.

I am glad to see two fire cauldrons on the edges of the dais. Perhaps they will make enough heat to keep Abigail, King, and Zoe from freezing.

Finally, my eyes are drawn to the corner of the dais where two vampire males stand guard over two children—two girls.

One I know, Zoe Sommerfield. She is bruised and bleeding, though no injury is fatal. She is also wearing a strange collar, which I can only assume is how they kept the other girl in control.

The other girl—Renesmee Cullen—is unique. As unique as both her parents. I can tell immediately. She is beautiful, the mot beautiful child I have ever seen. Even after these days of captivity, she is radiant. Her bronze curls shine, and her brown eyes smile.

It is no wonder why the Volturi desires to have her.

We come to a halt at the front of the dais. The twins do not budge, although they turn hate-filled eyes on Bella and Edward.

"Edward!" The man in the middle, Aro, as I have assumed, stands and claps his hands together. "So good to see you!"

I see Bella staring at her daughter. Renesmee nods once, simply, and smiles. Behind her, I can hear Zoe muttering profanity. Likely the girl is disturbed at Abigail's appearance.

I would not blame her. Abigail is far too injured to be walking into danger of this magnitude, but even I know better than to try to dissuade her from a course of action once she has decided upon it.

"I was just enjoying a marvelous conversation with your unique daughter," Aro continues.

I can see tension in Edward's shoulders. He does not answer.

"She is unique, Edward. Three years old? I remember her as an infant, and I was impressed then. I am suitably impressed now."

"Get on with it, Aro."

Even I am stunned at the visceral hatred in Edward's voice. In the short time I have known him, I have grown to expect kindness and compassion from him; apparently, as the Volturi are tired of negotiating, Edward is tired of forgiving them.

Aro seems surprised too. Perhaps he is beginning to understand that he has crossed a line he should never have crossed.

"You interrupted us at just the right time, I will confess," Aro says, returning to his chair to sit. "I had just issued your lovely daughter the same invitation I am prepared to offer to all of you." He scowls. "Well—most of you."

His gaze hesitated on Abigail and King.

Aro folds his hands. "I would be most honored if you all would join us."

No one responds.

Aro looks disappointed. "And this is your answer? Perhaps you do not realize what you are turning down." He stands again. "A family. A life where you will never be mistreated or betrayed."

Still no one responds.

"Very well," Aro shakes his head. "I shall offer only once more, but this time the invitation is for Renesmee—and for you two." He points at Michael and Blade. "You all three are hybrids."

"No shit." It is Blade. I stifle a smile. Now is not a good time to smile, but oftentimes his bluntness is endearing.

Unfortunately, Aro finds it amusing too.

"I will confess to you that we of the Volturi once thought that the best way to maintain our race—and our power over our race—was to remain pure. After all, purity is essential. An uninterrupted bloodline is necessary to understand our past. But the more we have watched and studied and learned, the more we have begun to realize—we may have been wrong."

Aro steps down to the main floor and stands between the twins, one hand on each of their shoulders.

"It is Renesmee who began it," Aro says. "We came to the Cullens of Forks with the intention of destroying them all because it had been reported to us that a child vampire had been created—that will not stand. But then we learned the truth. How miraculous she is!" Aro smiles again. It is—eerie. That is the best description of his smiles. "So, we reasoned, if we had been incorrect about Renesmee Cullen, what else had we been incorrect about?"

He turns to Blade.

"We knew of you and your struggle against your breed of vampires. What we know of you—you fight with honor and courage. We would welcome you into our coven."

Aro doesn't give Blade a chance to answer before he turns to Michael.

"And you, Michael Corvin. Descendant of immortals—the perfect blend of human, vampire, and werewolf. A very intriguing concept." Aro is smiling again. "Your strength and loyalty we would desire to add to our family."

Aro turns and goes back to his throne to sit.

"Blade, Michael, and Renesmee—will you join us? We will allow the rest of your families to leave unhindered if you agree. If not?" Aro smiles again. "We cannot be responsible since this is indeed your choice."

Edward narrows his eyes. "You will kill us all, Aro?"

"Yes, Edward."

"Even me?" Alice steps out from behind her brother.

"Alice, my dear." He addresses the smallest of the Cullen Coven. "You are always welcome to join us. Your unique abilities are highly desirable." He smiles again. "But if the rest of you refuse, I see no reason to allow any of you to live."

"If you can't have us, no one can," Michael says boldly.

"That's the idea," Aro nods.

"That's bull shit." Blade shakes himself and rolls his shoulders. It is a familiar motion. He is preparing to attack.

Lycans are moving in behind us.

"So—you want hybrids to increase your power," I say.

"Yes," Aro says. "Our power is limitless, yes, but we have witnessed the greater power of these precious few hybrids. As I have already said, we made an error in judgment in believing that they did not belong among us." He utters a sharp laugh. "We may be immortal, and we may all live forever, but we are not infallible."

Aro has moved to the end of the dais where Zoe and Renesmee are standing.

For the first time, I notice that Zoe and Abigail are staring at each other. I have not known them long enough to be able to decipher their facial expressions, but they are obviously saying something to each other in a language only they can speak. King has not noticed, and neither has Blade.

"In every story that has ever been written," Aro is still droning on, "even the immortal warrior has a weakness." He is smiling that eerie smile again. "Even we. Our powers are unmatched—at least they had been until now. But we are seeking a way to increase our power, our control and dominion over the vampires of the world. Our power may be limitless, but our control may not be."

"You fear for your control?" I ask.

"Age is a terrible thing," Aro says. "Our bodies and strengths, of course, are as strong as they ever were, but I do fear for the minds of our kind. The mind will not always function at its peak. Decay and illness can take many forms, even if it is simply because one has lived too long." Aro lifts his chin. "I believe these hybrids may be the key to preserving our race—our minds—indefinitely. For even though the body may remain in perfect working order, the mind, for whatever reason, will eventually succumb to madness."

"Right," King says over my shoulder, "and the mind is a terrible thing to waste."

I do wish the man would refrain from speaking half the time.

"Great one, King," Zoe mutters, apparently as put out with him as I am. "Win one for the home team. Make us look even dumber."

Abigail says nothing and glares at him. King, aptly chastised, falls silent.

"That is my intention," Aro says. "Those are my plans. Now—what are your answers?"

"No," Michael says simply.

One of the vampires of my breed bursts into ashes and collapses to the floor in a shower of brimstone. We all gawk in stunned shock at Blade as he sheaths his sword—not even I had seen him pull it out.

Blade shrugs. "He got too close."

Aro looks intrigued. "Indeed. Your answer?"

"Hell, no."

Aro is beginning to look less amused and more angry.

But Edward—Edward has a very strange expression on his face. And he is staring at his daughter. Renesmee has stepped up with her chin in the air.

"Renesmee?" Aro asks. "Please tell me you have not inherited the foolishness of your family. Tell me you will accept our kind, generous offer."

"I will not," Renesmee says coldly in a voice that reminds me of a spring breeze trying to thaw a mountain covered in snow. "You have threatened my family and my friends, and I will never stand with you."

Aro sighs sadly. "Very well then."

The Lycans are closing in behind us. Very soon we will begin the battle.

Aro is still on the side of the side of the dais with Renesmee and Zoe, and it is then that I realize exactly what is going to happen and why Edward was staring so strangely at his daughter.

At Blade's outburst, one of their guards had moved to stand at the other end of the room, leaving only a single vampire to guard both Renesmee and Zoe.

They are standing by the heating cauldron.

I think we all realize what is going to happen at the same time, but for once no one is fast enough to prevent it.

Renesmee moves like a shot. In the blink of an eye, she is gone, and she is—she has knocked down their guard? Why in heaven's name did she do that?

"That's what I hate about suckheads." Zoe spits on the floor. "You never take us humans seriously."

Instantly, I know why Renesmee had done what she had done. The attention of all the guards was on her. No one was watching Zoe—not even Aro.

So no one was close enough to do anything when Zoe turned a splendid roundhouse kick and smashed her heel into the heating cauldron, spilling its fiery contents all down Aro's side and back.

As though his body were made of kindling, Aro caught fire instantly.

And Abigail—Abigail is already shooting. Three Lycans are already on the floor, dying. And Edward has the slender guard who Renesmee attacked by the throat.

In less than a second, the entire room has gone mad.

I feel the rush of adrenaline that accompanies the shift of my eyes from black to icy blue, and the flood of power born of Alexander Corvinus's immortal blood in my veins sends a thrill of anticipation through me.

Michael is already fully transformed beside me, and we split. Michael runs for Kannus who is phasing, and I run for the one of the vampires of my coven. I'll make quick work of them while the Cullens deal with the others.

Perhaps this whole ordeal is foolish. Perhaps these Volturi and their Higher Coven will annihilate us. In either case, if I am to die anyway, I intend to give them hell before it's over.