Breathe
As time passes, Caius Volturi quickly becomes my greatest ally. He is conniving and confident, but very thoughtful. And I often find myself wondering why he would pay me any mind in the first place.
A week into my servitude for the brothers, Caius sets a chaise up in his study for me to relax on when my work is done. Refusing to inhibit my duties or cause unnecessary queries about why I was exempt from certain tasks even though I held no higher place than the servants in this court, we keep this a secret. Instead of returning to my room or searching for extra chores, he allows me to spend my free time with him, so long as I do not disturb him in his work.
Caius keeps a collection of books for me in his office, particularly the ones I show interest in while cleaning the library. It started when I mentioned Romeo and Juliet offhand, wishing aloud that I longed for the opportunity to read it again before I left home. The next day, an ancient copy of the play waited for me on my chaise, eager for a reader. Now, I've been here for two weeks, reading literature and deeply observing my surroundings.
I miss the Tuscan landscape. In all my time cleaning and perusing the castle halls, I have not seen a single window. And maybe there are windows in the rooms I dare not enter, but I have not been so lucky, and weeks pass since I've last seen the sun. There is still light: everything is lit up by candles and torches, and I rarely find myself lost in the dark. But oh god, I miss the sunshine. I long for the warmth I felt on my skin while tending to my father's fields. My body aches for the opportunity to absorb every ray of light cast from that orb in the sky. But there is no reprieve, and no one offers me a chance to explore the outside world.
Red eyes everywhere unnerve me, and I begin to develop suspicions as to what these beings are. One night, after Caius sends me to bed, I lay in my cot, staring at the grey, peeling ceiling while I mull over old myths and legends I learned throughout my life. I try to conjure up some explanation for their strange behaviors and appearances. So pale, so ethereal. But nothing out of the ordinary points me towards what they are exactly. Still, I feel so close to the answer, like I know what they are, but the memory is lost to me. So I decide to observe closely and keep an eye out for clues that will guide me in finding out their secret.
A few nights before, Caius brings his wife, Athenadora, down to meet me while I nest in his study. They glide into the room without warning, and my breath escapes me when my eyes meet the couple. Caius is beautiful, a greek god in his own right. But the woman standing next to him breaks every concept I hold of beauty. Athenadora stands before me, her alluring soft features framed by the same white blonde hair atop her husband's head. The same eyes, crimson and ancient gaze back at me in wonder. Her button nose and Greecian structure leave even me breathless. They are angelic; she is celestial.
Athenadora introduces herself to me immediately, reaching out to pull my frame against her own. "Bella, mia sorella, I am elated that it is finally my time to meet you," the angel twills, running her fingers through my hair. "You are as gorgeous as I imagined."
I stand, frozen, unaware of how to respond to this woman's attention. I look to Caius, begging him to help me discern what is going on. The bastard only smirks and nods his head toward his wife. Immediately, I snap my head back to meet her blood-red eyes. They should unnerve me, but I only find peace there.
"I do not even compare to your beauty, mistress. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I am eager to serve you," I respond, unable to peel my eyes from her cherub cheeks. "But if I may be so bold, I am not related to either of you through bond or blood, and still you continue to refer to me as your sister. I do not understand."
Caius flashes a glance of dark mischief in my direction; he will not answer my questions today. "All in due time, Isabella. It is not my choice."
I nod, still desperate to know who the choice belongs to. None of this makes sense, and the mystery continues to grow in magnitude with each passing day.
For the remainder of the afternoon, I spend my time with Caius and Dora, watching their love manifest in the physical realm. They do not share their story with me, Caius shutting the idea down with a very quick "all in due time, sorella." But even without hearing them speak of anything personal, I can see that their connection is profound. Caius orbits around her; his eyes never leaving her while she is in the room. His behavior contrasts greatly from the focused, almost withdrawn man I've grown fond of spending my quiet time with. And I understand now why she never visits him in his study. The tension is palpable, and I feel as though I am interrupting a severely intimate moment. Not because of their behavior in any sense, but the connection between the two is so tangible, my heart cries.
Athenadora is kind and wise; she reminds me of my mother. The broken, desperate part of my soul wants nothing more than to curl up against her; and I wonder why I am so willing to throw myself and my burdens at these two.
But they are my masters not my parents, and I need to remember that I am below them in every sense of the status.
~AB~
Time loses meaning; I spend my days cleaning the castle and waiting restlessly for the few hours I can spend in Caius' study, immersed in the varying worlds of literature.
On a fine day, hours after my chores are done, I find myself lounging out on the chaise, completely absorbed in a text on the creation of Rome when the door bursts open, slamming against the adjacent wall.
A figure, both tall and lean, steps through the door. Their shoulders are tense, and the posture they hold screams irritation. Before I can glimpse at the man, he disappears in a blur, only to reappear in front of Caius' desk, looming over the front of it. Shoulder length, sleek, black hair encompasses the man's head, half pulled back by a silver clip.
"Caius, brother, please divulge me in your reasons for not attending the meeting I called in the throne room."
Though I cannot see the man, my eyes are fixed on Caius as his lips quirk into a smirk. The wheels are turning in his head, and I find my own eyes narrowing in response. He is up to something.
"My apologies, Aro. Presently, I have company. Miss Isabella's attentions were far too enjoyable to part with, I am afraid," he drawls, eyes darting to me in a moment of pure mischief.
Aro. It is the same name Caius called me by the first day in his study. This is the man he'd mistaken me for. This man, Aro, rears back to his full height and turns around slowly, his posture rigid but still so full of grace. And as his face comes into view, I gasp, suddenly finding it hard to breathe in his presence. My throat closes up, and there is little I can do other than stare at his marble chiselled features, struck in awe over his straight nose and deep-set ruby eyes. Striking. Not handsome in the traditional sense, no. Long raven hair falls to his shoulders, resting atop a thick set of dark red robes. Tall in stature, his neck is long and slim, adorned with a dark chain and pendant. The Volturi crest.
When our eyes meet, time stops. I maintain no semblance of my surroundings or my situation. Aro fills my senses. And then he is there, standing right in front of me, staring at me with a violent inferno in his eyes. His nostrils flare and he leans in close, so close I can feel his breath on my neck. And then he sniffs me. His nose travels from the base of my neck, all the way to the shell of my ear. Almost like he's trying to pull the air from my very lungs. I am frozen, trapped by the power of his proximity. Who is this man?
A throat clears and Aro pulls away with a vicious growl, turning to block me completely from Caius' view.
He looks livid. The anger pours out of him in tidal waves, surging towards Caius. But his beratement resounds in a most chilling whisper. "Caius, brother, why would you keep something of such great importance from me?"
Caius does not back down, and I begin to understand that these sorts of disputes are tantalizing to him. He craves conflict. "Whatever do you mean, Aro?"
The god before me blurs forward and slams his hands down on Caius' desk. "I mean, you should have come to speak with me the second you were made aware of her existence."
Caius tuts, shaking his head in response to the irate man. "Maybe you should visit me more, Aro. The girl has been here for a few weeks now, and I have not seen you in my study during that entirety."
Aro scoffs, his back now turned to me fully. "Is this all some rouse to force me into visiting you, Caius? Because I know perfectly well that Dora has no qualms with spending her days in your company, and you still turn her away."
A deep bellied laugh escapes Caius' lips, and he rises from his spot behind the desk. "If Dora spent her days in here, I am afraid I would never get anything done, brother."
"And so you choose to spend your days with what is mine, instead?"
"Yes."
Aro growls again, this time tensing and seemingly preparing to pounce. "Not anymore."
Caius smiles, unfazed by Aro's behavior. "I believe that is up to Miss Isabella. After all, the poor girl just needs a place to read. She's quite brilliant, you know."
I pull my body into a seated position, crossing my legs in front of me. As terrifying as the entire conversation is, my precarious position makes me more uncomfortable, and I feel better about dealing with the situation in a less vulnerable position.
"I rather like Master Caius' study,'' I voice quietly, drawing the attention of both men. "And he makes for good company. I am tasked to this room, so I see no reason why I shouldn-"
"Enough," Aro orders, stopping me in the middle of my sentence, a cheery demeanor creeping through his anger; a villainous shift, maybe. Nonetheless, chilling. "Isabella," he purrs, vines grow and twist around my stomach. His voice strikes a fire in my abdomen; it leaves me breathless. "You will soon learn, I am not one you should argue with."
I narrow my eyes at the man, adamant that nobody takes my freedom from me, but still trying to make sure my head remains attached to my body. He will not take away the little opportunity I have to relax in this prison of a palace. He meets my gaze with equal intensity, and I want nothing more, at this moment, than to rip his throat out. Even though my servitude and respect are required, I will not allow my free time (my allowed free time) to fall into the control of a man I neither know nor directly work for. I am more Caius' servant than Aro's.
"Brother, I will continue to allow Isabella to spend her time in my study, as long as she desires. I do not see the issue in this," Caius replies tersely.
A sneer from Aro draws Caius' lips into a tight grimace, and the raven-haired man looks ready to pounce. Instead, he turns back to me, the same sneer still plastered across his face, and stalks forward.
He does not argue or speak with Caius, again. Rather, he lunges forward, scooping me up in his arms, and ushers us out the door. All the while, I find myself too shocked to fight the man back. As soon as his ice-cold limbs encircle around me, all rational thought leaves my head, and I forget the initial reason for my ire.
It doesn't take long before he reminds me of the abhorrent dominating personality he sported moments ago, he looks down on me and growls, "You're going to fight me on everything, aren't you?"