Somehow, within a single morning, it had already gone so terribly wrong.

Oh, Aro had known something might go awry. Optimistic as he might be, he was not a fool, and this was a delicate operation.

Someone might lose control, the girl might trip and scrape herself (and what a disaster that could potentially turn into), she might wander into the dining room or perhaps even the wives' tower, she might put two and two together and flee the city, she could fail to like any of the Volturi and flee in terror when they offered to turn her…

Any number of things could go wrong.

Aro was perfectly aware of that.

However, even in his worst imaginings, he had not imagined that it would all come to a head in a single morning when Edward Cullen, Carlisle's most beloved progeny, not only lost control but also lost his head.

Literally.

Marcus had brought him Edward Cullen's head as well as the first edict he had passed in two thousand years.

That Edward Cullen was banished from the city of Volterra.

Not simply temporarily removed, until Bella was turned or else left Volterra herself, nor relocated to a different part of the city and excused from this charade, but banished until the Volturi themselves fell.

And while Marcus saw fit to watch Olivia Newton-John and John Travolta sing about the one that they wanted with a hopefully (God, Aro could only hope) oblivious Bella Swan, Aro was left with the aftermath and all the consequences that would come with it.

Funny, wasn't it? Per Carlisle's memories, his children had superb control. Oh, his wife was touch and go, and Jasper, the one who hadn't dared to enter this city per his wife's gift, notably struggled, but the children themselves had spent years among human children. Youths who tripped, fell, cut themselves, had injuries, and for the most part they did quite well.

Aro had thought he might have to watch for Emmett. However, Emmett and Rosalie had graciously not volunteered to be in Bella's presence (and indeed seemed intent on avoiding her as much as humanly possible). Esme, similarly, seemed to shrink away from the idea of interacting with Bella Swan.

Beyond that, it was Aro's very guard who might be troublesome. Oh, they had control enough, but they didn't interact day in and day out with humans. More, normally, when a human smelled that good the human was promptly eaten. Spending several months with a human wandering the castle might prove too much for many of them (which is why most had given this whole operation very wide berth).

Aro had not suspected that Edward would be a problem.

Beyond Edward's purposeful rejection of Carlisle's diet and way of life when young he had never once slipped, there had been no accidents. Of his family, in recent years, through Carlisle's eyes he and Rosalie were neck and neck for their reliable control. Not yet at Carlisle's level, of course, who could perform open heart surgery on a human without blinking, but Carlisle trusted them to be able to remove themselves or their siblings from most dangerous situations.

Now, the boy was… odd, even through Carlisle's eyes, but he had been turned very young and recently after the deaths of his parents. He appeared to struggle immensely with vampirism as well as his gift and had never quite reached an adult's emotional maturity. Nevertheless, Carlisle truly believed him a noble spirit…

Humans with blood like Bella's, who were delicious to all but a siren's song to some, were decidedly rare. It said much that Aro himself, despite three-thousand years on this earth and having seen much of the world, had yet to come across one himself.

The probability of finding one was so small it might as well be impossible. However, there was that small, infinitesimal, chance.

A chance that Edward Cullen had unwittingly stumbled across for a girl Aro could not allow to die.

And had that been all, had it simply been a matter of lapsed control, then Aro would have gladly sent him home and told him to return when the girl was safely turned. However, it was only when Edward's head was reattached, when he was left to Alec's care, that Aro touched his hand.

Before then, Aro had seen Carlisle's family only through Carlisle's eyes, eyes that loved them each dearly and strove to see the best in each. They struggled and fell short of his vision, yes, and there were signs of disagreement he desperately denied but…

He had seen no hint of the demons that lurked in Edward Cullen's mind.

Aro, unfortunately, now knew Edward Cullen better than Carlisle ever would.

The girl was Edward's singer, yes, but there had been no blackout. No, merely temptation, humiliation, and rage. He'd held control in those first few seconds of seeing her, he had never lunged, and instead he had thought to himself that this creature had been sent by the gods solely to cause his own destruction.

Then, of course, Marcus had torn off his head.

And now—when he awoke, humiliated and emasculated by a scent, and driven on by an instinct he did not wish to acknowledge…

Edward wouldn't let mere banishment, sensible as it was, stand in his way.

And now, on the first day of the rest of Aro's life, he would have to somehow tell Carlisle… something.

What he would tell him, of course, was the question of the hour.

At that very thought, Carlisle entered Aro's study.

Aro wished he could have given himself more time, however, he doubted that would have helped much. It would have only delayed matters.

Carlisle smiled at him, something wry, chagrinned, and fond all at once. Carlisle undoubtedly thought this was the private conversation he had been waiting for. One outside of the prying eyes of Carlisle's family and Aro's guard and brothers.

He expected chastisement from Aro, for the many centuries that he had allowed to pass between them, a discussion of whether Carlisle truly had found all that he was searching for out there in the wide world (and the pity was that Carlisle sincerely believed that he had and only Aro knew that he had not), and a discussion of where they stood now with so many years and two wives standing between them.

Yes, yesterday, that was the conversation Aro had thought he would be having as well.

It would have been lovely, easier than Carlisle suspected, because through Carlisle's own memories Aro had gleaned the why and how of everything that had come to pass. Carlisle was not ready to return, Aro knew that much, and he would not pressure him to do so.

No, forcing someone to stay against their will—he had learned that lesson long ago.

Better for Carlisle to see the world, to become his own person, than to become Marcus.

"I was wondering when you'd summon me, old friend," Carlisle greeted as he took a seat on the sofa. Not the chair in front of Aro's desk, no, but the sofa across from the coffee table, where Aro would sit across from him on equal level.

Carlisle had always preferred that, and it seemed that had not changed.

(With amusement, Aro now recalled the Cullen's wooden kitchen table, unused for meals but instead purely for family discussions, in which Carlisle desperately tried to pretend he was not in fact the head of his coven.

He convinced no one, though he tried his best.)

"Before you start," Carlisle said, holding up a hand, "You do know that I intended to come eventually. I don't know when but—"

"Yes," Aro said with a smile as he took his own seat, "I'm aware."

Of course, he was also aware that the best intentions had ways of running away from you. As that family kept growing, particularly after Carlisle had acquired young Alice… No, Aro suspected it would have been many more years until he saw Carlisle Cullen in this place.

Regardless, Carlisle relaxed somewhat.

"And you can rest easy regarding Alice," Aro added, "While her gift is extremely intriguing, and I would love to meet her, I have no immediate need for such a gift."

Certainly not at the cost of Carlisle himself, which was what it would ultimately come down to.

Though, even for Carlisle, he could not promise everything. If there ever came a day when Aro truly did need to see the future, to judge for himself the extent of Alice's power… Well, he could make no promises.

However, he was sure Carlisle knew that. Carlisle had been here for decades; he had no illusions as to Aro's methods of operation. It was, after all, why he was here now, because despite their friendship he couldn't quite trust Aro with Bella Swan.

"I'm sure she'll appreciate it," Carlisle said.

Aro highly doubted she would, but it was the thought that counted, he supposed.

At the pause in conversation, Aro felt himself growing tense. It seemed that this was his moment, this peaceful ambiance would be shattered, and Aro would have to say… something.

Instead, what came out of his mouth was, "You've found yourself a lovely wife, Carlisle."

(Aro, apparently, was a coward.)

Carlisle beamed, looking somewhat relieved as well as hopelessly fond and devoted to his wife, "Yes, she's wonderful. Though I didn't find her—"

Aro waived a hand dismissively, "Yes, I'm aware, we can't all go shopping for the perfect bride as I did. What I meant was that she—suits you."

This was a blatant lie.

Aro had spent near a century trying to imagine Carlisle Cullen's bride. When he'd heard the news, he could scarcely believe it. For what woman, what person, could possibly be worthy of Carlisle? Aro, certainly, had never been worthy of the man and he'd be the first to shout it from the rooftops.

He'd created visions in his head, of someone who matched Carlisle's wit, his beauty, his spark of ingenuity, and most importantly of all that intimidating, almost saint-like, goodness that presided in his soul. Whether she was a golden goddess, a dark-haired beauty, he didn't know, only that he didn't doubt she must be the loveliest creature on earth.

Only confirmed, of course, when she did not balk at Carlisle's diet or way of life in the way that Aro had. One of many things, of course, that Aro had not been willing to do for Carlisle's sake.

He had imagined the perfect woman.

Esme Cullen was—a woman.

A decidedly odd woman.

Rather than a wife, Carlisle seemed to have acquired a maid whose services he did not require but could not find in his heart to dismiss. Carlisle believed himself married to a woman; the woman was married to her architected houses, her peculiar hobby of baking, and the fantasy of being wife and mother to a perfect family.

Oh, she seemed to love Carlisle, be utterly infatuated with him even from her human days, but—and Aro couldn't tell for certain without reading her mind—there was so little substance to her. It was as if the ghost of her human spirit possessed her new body, trapped her in some other, parallel, dimension, in which god only knew what was occurring.

A dimension where, when Caius said anything at all, her response was that "he must have had a bad day at work", spoken with the utmost sincerity.

Esme's was a reality that seemed to belong in "Leave it to Beaver" rather than any world that had marched past the 1950's and its smiling Stepford housewives.

And while Carlisle saw a woman who respected and shared his deepest beliefs, Aro saw a woman who—respected and loved her family. Which meant, of course, believing that she respected and shared Carlisle's beliefs, while in reality doing anything but.

Lovely, of course, and very devoted to Carlisle and their children, certainly filled with wonderfully admirable qualities, but—

It was certainly not the wife Aro had pictured.

And of course, he could say none of this out loud.

Carlisle, however, was too much in love to catch onto any of this or Aro's hesitation, "And I hope I suit her, she truly is wonderful. I am always amazed to find her in my life after—well—"

"You imagined a life of eternal bachelorhood," Aro filled in for him.

Which was a bit unfair, but Aro supposed not unwarranted. Aro would never have said no, of course, and Carlisle was not only his closest friend but the lover who had truly meant the most to Aro (Sulpicia and Aro shared a different kind of bond) but many things had stood in their way.

The diet, most importantly of all, had loomed as an ugly wall between them.

Carlisle had refused the natural course of things, not simply because of his God, but for the unquestionable sanctity of sentient life. Aro thought the gods more pragmatic and forgiving than that.

Had Carlisle's diet not been as alarming as it was, had Aro not feared Carlisle's eventual death by starvation and malnutrition, had the detrimental effects not been so very obvious and consistent…

Well, a Volturi who subsided off animals vice human beings would have a much easier time cleaning up after themselves. Heidi, certainly, would have far less of a workload and could be set to other tasks. They ran a risky operation in this modern world, animal blood could have been a solution to that.

Alas, Carlisle paid a heavy price for his way of life, and it was one the Volturi could not afford, nor should they. Nor should Carlisle, for that matter, but Carlisle would always disagree.

And this was why Carlisle had believed himself a man who could have many friends but no true partner. Until, of course, he had turned Esme Anne Platt (and what would he do, Aro wondered, should he learn that even Esme did not live up to his pitifully low standards of considering the full sanctity of human life?)

"You'll have to talk with her, one of these days," Carlisle insisted, "I'm sure you'll adore her as much as I do."

Well, that would be hard considering how very much Aro adored Carlisle, but he supposed it was a nice sentiment.

"And I assume you do not wish me to discuss our sordid history?" Aro asked with a knowing smile.

"Ah," Carlisle said, and if he were human, he would have been flushing, Aro was certain.

Oh, he wasn't offended. Esme was—a delicate creature, Aro now understood that. Carlisle was very likely right in that she wouldn't take the news well. More, Carlisle's coven was decidedly unique in that so much of their human culture stayed with them. They were very young, each of them, and had not fully left the human world behind.

In Esme's world, in the human culture she came from, love shared between men was not love at all. It was something far darker, something whose shadow she had encountered in her relationship with her human husband.

She would not understand. More, Aro suspected even if he were to say the words directly to her, she would not be able to process them. Such a reality simply could not exist for one such as Esme, it couldn't touch the world she lived in.

Carlisle might as well have only come into existence when he turned Edward in 1918. That was Esme's reality.

Not to mention Edward, of course, would take it far worse than that. Even Carlisle suspected as much and—well—Carlisle didn't know the half of it.

(Edward, Aro was still avoiding talking about Edward. Gods, he did not even know where to begin nor did he want to begin at all.)

"Rest assured, Dear Carlisle," Aro said, "Esme shall hear nothing from me. Of course, I can promise nothing from Caius but—"

"I know," Carlisle quickly interjected, "And I doubt Caius will be looking to speak to her much anyway."

No, he likely would not.

One day in and Caius had told Aro that he intended to leave Carlisle's "groupies" to their own devices. They had provided him a night's amusement, but only that, beyond that he had decided they had lived up to expectations and thus he wanted nothing more to do with them.

At least, not until he heard about Edward Cullen.

Then Aro was certain he'd reemerge from the tower if only to lambast Carlisle for his failures. It was among Caius' favorite pastimes.

Yes, that was another conversation Aro had to look forward to. At least, there, he would not have to dance around the truth. No, the issue there would be trying to convince Caius not to do anything—rash and unprompted.

Which meant, of course, that Aro had to tell Carlisle first or else Caius would.

It seemed Aro was out of time.

"I'm afraid, Carlisle, that I have—news," bad news, certainly, but it felt easier to simply say news.

Here, Carlisle's brow furrowed, and it seemed he'd finally caught on to Aro's uncharacteristic hesitation. Or, rather, Aro's very characteristic hesitation when it came to telling anyone anything remotely unpleasant. Aro had always been awful at revealing blunt, unpleasant, truths.

That's what Caius was for.

"News?" Carlisle asked with a frown, "Aro, my family's only been here a few hours, what could have possibly happened?"

Ah, it didn't even occur to Carlisle then that something could have happened with Edward. The very idea of Edward having lost control in Bella Swan's presence wasn't even a remote possibility.

Aro wasn't sure if that made this worse or simply funny.

"Well," Aro said, only to pause, the words gone before he could even think of them.

Damn it all.

He started again, "Well, as you know, your son Edward had class with Bella this morning. I'm afraid it—did not go well."

Now Carlisle looked appropriately nervous, as he very well should. When things "didn't go well" for a vampire around a human, there was usually only one conclusion to draw. And for Carlisle's family, for Edward who never before had "slipped" as the others had, this would be a devastating blow he likely imagined Edward would never recover from.

Which, of course, was correct but for all the wrong reasons.

"Is she—"

"Bella's alive and well," Aro said quickly, interrupting Carlisle before he could even ask, "As far as I am aware—she's none the wiser either."

Though Marcus had been remarkably careless.

Well, that wasn't fair. Given the circumstances, Marcus had reacted with shocking agility and levelheadedness. That was the trouble though, in one moment he'd been in the classroom, in the next he and Edward had disappeared. If Bella hadn't noticed that, then Aro would eat his best hat.

She—had yet to comment on it though, had not commented on it to Marcus. Perhaps the shock had simply been too much for her. Perhaps she told herself she had imagined all of it, surreal an encounter as it was. Aro hoped as much.

Aro ran a hand through his hair and continued, trying to ignore Carlisle's desperate expression, both begging Aro for more details and yet not wanting to hear them.

"Here, in Tuscany, there is a term for the phenomenon young Edward just encountered," Aro explained, though he had mentioned this off-hand to Carlisle many years ago already, "La Tua Cantante, the blood that sings. It is—temptation like no other, blood that smells like no other in the world ever has or ever will, as if it was brewed specifically for you. It is exceedingly rare, I have never felt it, but it seems that Miss Bella Swan is Edward's singer."

Before Carlisle could ask, Aro added, "Edward is alright, Marcus stopped him before anything could happen, and Alec is with him now."

At first, Carlisle breathed out in relief, his son was safe, the human was alive without his son paying the price of murder, and all was well. However, then Aro's words caught up with him.

"With Alec?" Carlisle asked in wary confusion, "Is that really necessary?"

And here was the moment of truth.

Aro could lie.

Not even lie, truly, but simply leave it at that. The girl was Edward's singer, Aro was simply being cautious in employing Alec. He was being kind, so as to relieve Edward of some of that unbearable temptation. With Alec at work, eating Bella was not even an option. Why would Aro not be as cautious as he now could with the stakes he was playing?

It was all perfectly reasonable.

Then Aro could send Edward out of the city and harm's way, tell Carlisle that it was simply too dangerous, and Carlisle would undoubtedly agree. Carlisle would want to protect both the human girl he'd never spoken to as well as Edward himself, from the haunting guilt that would follow him should he devour this poor girl that he'd come all this way to try and aid.

And if Edward argued with Carlisle, insisted he could do this, Aro could shake his head mutely and Carlisle could ask himself in what world was needlessly risking a human being's life worth his son's wounded pride? For all that Carlisle loved his son, for all that he was blinded to Edward's true nature, he would not bend in that regard.

And perhaps that could be that.

When this was over, Carlisle would leave anyway, he'd take his family with him, and they would never return to Volterra. Bella would hopefully be turned by then and Edward Cullen no longer a threat.

Except, that was assuming Edward took Carlisle's answer as a final decision. That was assuming Edward Cullen could live with both himself, the reflection he'd seen in Bella's human eyes, and the condemning mirror that lived in Marcus.

Aro did not think—no, he was certain that Edward Cullen could not live with that.

This story was unfinished for him, it always would be, and he would go to unspeakable lengths to see to it that he found Bella Swan again. To save her, he'd likely tell himself, though even he would wonder if it would merely be to devour her.

And for that—Carlisle must know.

More…

Carlisle was his dearest friend in all the world.

Marcus was not what he was, Didyme was dead by Aro's own hand, and while he had always relied upon Caius he'd hardly call their relationship that of friends. Carlisle—he was everything, everything that Aro had never known he was missing on this Earth.

Aro had always hoped that one day, even if it meant Carlisle returning in defeat and despair, that Carlisle would come back.

Aro was glad Carlisle had found happiness, that against all odds he had found success as well as companionship, but—Aro did miss him dearly.

And he did not wish to cause him pain. Nor did he want Carlisle to think him a liar, to despise him, which might very well be the conclusion he came to after merely thinking Aro must be mistaken despite his gift.

Carlisle would not take the truth well.

However, Aro also wished Carlisle well, and could not in good conscience allow Carlisle to remain in the dark. Some of it, Carlisle knew or suspected already, deep in his heart of hearts.

He had his family attend the funerals of their victims, in a desperate attempt that they feel some hint of remorse for their failures, rather than the slip off the wagons they saw it as. He allowed his children to hunt exotic species, rather than venison, in fear that if he did not they would abandon the diet altogether. He sent his children to school in some desperate hope that, merely surrounded by human beings, they might recognize that humans had inherent, individual, worth.

Oh, deep down, Carlisle knew that his family didn't quite get it. They walked the walk, most of the time, but they couldn't even talk the talk. No, instead they felt themselves morally superior and humane than their brethren for their diet, while disparaging the insipid thoughts of their mortal peers.

Carlisle knew it, but he would never admit it even to himself.

And that, of course, was not even all of it.

That was only what Carlisle knew. That was not Edward.

"Carlisle, your son—"

"I swear, I didn't know," Carlisle insisted, "He didn't either, clearly. Edward has always had profound control—"

Aro held up a hand, "Yes, I know this—that is not his fault. I don't blame him, not in the least, and I am profoundly relieved that nothing has come of this. However,…"

However, he had no idea how to put this.

Perhaps Aro did need Carlisle's little prophet, knowing how this conversation would go beforehand would have been very welcome knowledge.

He decided to take the long and winding road, "I am not sure you know this, Carlisle, I am aware that to you Marcus—is hardly a man at all."

Carlisle blinked, clearly, he had not seen this coming. Aro could hardly blame him, for all that Marcus was the man of the hour, he was not a subject Aro had ever discussed in depth with Carlisle.

No, too many skeletons were buried with Marcus, and to Carlisle…

Carlisle had only seen Marcus as he was now, to him, the man was a caricature he had never fully understood.

"Regardless, Marcus—for all that he seems—is a highly intelligent and very gifted individual."

Carlisle continued to look very confused, "Because of his gift?"

"Yes, but it's more than that," Aro said, "The gift, of course, is frighteningly powerful on its own but—the conclusions he can draw from his gift, in little more than an instant, are—Marcus can tell much of a person from the bonds they form with the world. More, perhaps, than I can tell from a person's every thought. I see people the way they see themselves, Marcus sees them as they truly are."

"Even after—Even now, with the way he is, he never lost that ability," Aro explained, "It's just that he no longer cares."

"What does this have to do with Edward?" Carlisle asked slowly, warily, clearly having some idea of where this was headed.

Marcus thinks your son is a deranged lunatic, was what Caius would undoubtedly have said before washing his hands of this whole affair.

"Your son, Edward, is not what he seems nor what he strives desperately to be," Aro said, "He is—dangerous, for lack of a better term. Not just to the girl, of course, but to you and your family."

"Aro, what are you talking about?" Carlisle asked, now sounding exasperated, "You realize you sound mad—"

"I'm saying your son is mad," Aro couldn't help but blurt.

Then, of course, wish he could eat his words.

He tried hastily to recover himself, "Carlisle, know I take no joy in saying this, and I know this comes as a deep and terrible shock to you, but remember my gift, remember Marcus'. Marcus has banished him from Volterra, Marcus—a man who blinks at nothing and no one. He thinks Edward will stop at nothing to return here. Lying to you, sneaking into the city, luring Bella out of it under false pretenses, breaking the law, mass murder—nothing is outside the realm of consideration for him. More, after reading Edward's thoughts, I agree."

Carlisle looked as if he had been slapped, or else as if he was on the verge of laughing in disbelief, "Aro, are you—you must be mistaken—"

"I am not mistaken," Aro said somberly, "Not in this, and neither is Marcus. Of course, your Edward will spin quite the tale to explain just why I would ever say this to you, but I can't say I care at the moment. Just—He can't stay here, Carlisle, and for all that you love, him I strongly advise you to watch him closely."

Carlisle said nothing for a very long moment.

Aro desperately wanted to take his hand, to hear what was racing through his mind now, to see if Aro's words had had any affect at all.

Finally, Carlisle said, "Aro, I know—whatever you saw in him, whatever Marcus sees in him, I'm sure you must be mistaken. Edward is a very good man, he makes mistakes, he has his dark moments, we all do but—"

Carlisle didn't finish that sentence, instead, he swallowed, and his resolve seemed to strengthen, "I agree he can't stay here, he'll be upset but he can thank me later. I'll send him home to friends and family, and they can keep an eye on him, but I know you're wrong. If Edward would do all that, why would he have ever come back?"

Because he so loathed himself, the degenerate and unglamorous life of a nomad, that he couldn't stand the thought of him anymore.

But, Aro had said what he could, and that was all there was to it.

He was lucky Carlisle was still speaking to him at all.

He decided to change the topic, "Of course, this still leaves the question of who takes the course with Bella. Renata, of course, will now have to attend but—perhaps your daughter, Rosalie?"

Author's Note: Carlisle's lucky that Aro didn't desperately start babbling about the weather.

Thanks to readers and reviewers, reviews are much appreciated.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight