AN 1: I can't even describe how happy your comments made me. Jane is such a dear, right? Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, it's good to know you like this story. I hope you enjoyed your holidays and let's hope for the best in the new year. Now let's get back to the story, this time it's Aro's chapter!
03 Beast of Black
Aro – the northern tower, Volterra, Italy
His hands were still shaking. Aro ignored the tremors and was trying to button up his shirt. Glancing up at his reflection in the mirror, he grimaced at what he saw. He could swear that the Aro in the mirror smirked at him, his eyes still so depressingly dark that the real Aro standing in front of it had to look away.
"It is not real," he muttered, clenching his hands into fists one more time. He closed his eyes and rocked on the balls of his feet back and forth. "It is not real."
The problem was, he could still feel it. The pain was echoing within his whole being, starting right at his chest, where his dead heart had sat unmoving for three thousand years. But the pain was better than the emptiness, wasn't it? He would take the pain over the cold blackness of his own heart and mind every time.
Oh, it is very real. You know it is.
His eyes snapped open and Aro turned around wildly, looking for the speaker and knowing at the same time that he wouldn't find one. It had been his voice saying those words inside his own mind.
I'm right here, it taunted. You'll never be rid of me. I am you, after all.
Aro turned his head to look back at his reflection and the Aro inside the mirror grinned at him – that broad, manic smile was so familiar it scared him. He had seen it, felt it stretch his lips wide so many times over the years.
"No, not again. Go away," he shook his head and backed away slightly, right into the middle of his bedroom where he promptly sat down on the ground. He needed to feel for his surroundings. He knew that. He couldn't slip. Not now. Caius would look for him if Aro took too long to change – and he didn't want his brother to see him like this, to see how far gone Aro already was.
Come on, look at me. Or are you afraid? His reflection asked, his lips curling up in a sneer, disgust clear in his black, black eyes. Of course, you are. That's all you are. A coward.
Closing his eyes, he planted his hands down. The carpet under his palms was rich and smooth. When he moved his palms slightly to the side, he touched the edge of it, and then the hard surface of the wooden floor. He felt for every groove, every scratch.
It wasn't enough. It hadn't been for some time. There wasn't helping it, nothing to be done about it. The only thing that helped these days was her.
"Isabella," Aro whispered, pressed the heels of his palms to his eyelids, and gritted his teeth. He searched through his memories for a glimpse of her as the world around him faded away. Aro's real interaction with her had been brief but every second of it had burnt itself into his very being so painfully… Coming across her image in his mind was like a blow to the stomach every time.
The skin under his fingertips was soft and warm. Her smell was so sweet Aro's mouth watered even now. Big brown eyes stared up at him from a pale, heart-shaped face. She was frozen, caught in Aro's gaze as she was, and her heart was beating loudly in alarm. In fear.
You're a monster, it's only natural that even your mate fears you. The malicious words slipped even inside his memory, poisoning it, desecrating it. Aro keened lowly and bit down on his knuckles to keep silent. He wanted to deny it, but he remembered her terror, the tremor that had run through her body at his touch, how she had recoiled from him. If the sight of her was like a physical blow to his stomach, the sight of her afraid of him was like an arrow to his heart.
"She is not my mate," Aro choked out just as the throbbing pain slammed into him. He felt the bond between them shudder in reaction to his words. Real or not, the agony of denying their connection out loud was crippling. Isabella only had the potential to be his. That's what was making letting so difficult – she was the first and only woman who had in all of Aro's existence.
From the first time Aro had glimpsed her in young Edward's mind, he had known that. It was like a strike of lightning, an electric current running through his entire body at the first sight of her. Marcus had known as well from the moment Isabella had stepped into the throne room. And Marcus worried. He didn't want Aro to suffer, didn't want him to live with a broken bond.
Not only a coward but also a liar, tutted the voice. It's no wonder she'll reject you.
"No." Aro started to giggle at that – wet, high-pitched gasps of breath that resembled laughter escaped him as he kneeled, hugging his sides, his forehead pressed to the carpet. "That's where you're wrong."
He was not giving her the chance. The voice was right about the other thing; Aro was a coward. He was afraid of what Isabella's rejection could do to him. He had no illusions about his mental state – there were just too many thoughts and memories crowding his brain. He felt fragile not only emotionally but mentally as well, just one step from the brink of true and utter madness. With just one word, Isabella could completely shatter him and push him over the edge.
It wasn't like he didn't want her. Not wanting one's mate was impossible and Aro yearned for her desperately for she had surely been created just for him. He had waited for someone like her since the Bronze Age but he had seen what happened to vampires who had lived too long without mating. It had already started, Isabella had been born too late. Aro was even more afraid of what he could do to her in the impossible scenario that sweet Isabella would accept a monster like him as her other half.
His moods shifted so often that he himself wasn't sure what was happening to him. He'd started to lose time, lose memory. In the sea of voices, he was starting to lose even himself, and he couldn't think or reason clearly. It was painfully simple. Aro wasn't safe and if he hurt her… No, he couldn't trust himself with something so precious as his mate. He would not. He would rather be in constant pain, he would rather be shattered into million pieces than life with the fear of harming his mate.
I thought she wasn't your mate, chuckled the voice. She could be, you know. Although… I can't imagine she would want to be. What woman would want such a pathetic creature, hmm?
"Shut up!" he cried. Marcus had shown him that the bond had already started turning solid. Aro had to stop thinking like that for her sake. She wasn't and wouldn't be his. He had to keep her safe. But he was running in vicious circles, trapped between his need for Isabella's safety and the fact that Aro needed her image to just make it through the day, to escape that black silky voice.
"She's not mine. She. Is. N-not." In three days she wouldn't be. In three days, she would belong to the Cullen whelp. Just the thought made him wish he was dead but Aro pushed at the pain, tried to rise above it.
"No bond, no bond, no bond," he was chanting loudly, even as he felt it tug at his heart, search for his non-existent soul.
Oh yes, young Edward is so much better suited to be her mate. The voice was brutal. They look the same age. Even you have to concede that they look well together.
Those words brought up the image of Isabella cradled in the arms of the young vampire protectively, as if she belonged there. It had hurt to look upon them together, but Aro had managed to keep his wits about him then. Now? It was pure agony to recall that particular memory, the moment he had decided to let his mate go with another.
"No!" Something ferocious roared to life inside Aro's chest. It was black and ugly and cold. Hateful. Hurting. It wanted to inflict that hurt back at anyone and everyone in its reach. Aro shuddered as that hatred filled him, drowning away even that cruel taunting voice, swallowing his rational thoughts quickly.
Aro was only vaguely aware that a small part of him was scared. He wasn't safe, and whoever came across him in this state would get hurt. That beast inside was the very thing he needed to protect Isabella from.
"Isabella," he gasped, clawing at his heart with one hand while the other was tearing at his hair. The skin cracked under his fingernails, venom oozing out. The pain distracted him long enough so he could focus his thoughts on Isabella. The image of her helped ground him – not of her big fearful eyes in the throne room, no. Aro's memories were tainted by his darkness. Edward's however, were pristine.
Desperately rummaging through the boy's memories, he searched for something light, something pure that could save him.
There was a flash of green, a beam of sunlight, a glitter of diamonds… And yes, here she was, his Isabella, looking up at him with wonder in her eyes and cheeks blooming red from the cold fresh air.
Aro breathed in deeply the earthy smell of the forest in early spring and her sweet, sweet scent. Isabella's touch was a shock of warmth, so scorching hot that Aro trembled at the sensation. Her fingertips skimmed the planes of his chest, his pectorals, his abs. He couldn't keep his eyes open when she came closer and enveloped him in her warmth and scent, driving out the roars of his rage, his pain, his loneliness, leaving him in silence and at peace, unburdened.
"You're beautiful," she whispered then and Aro blinked open his eyes, looking down at her. Isabella's face was so honest, and the emotion shining from the depths of her very soul gutted him.
He had never thought love was something he would want from anyone. The concept of romantic love had baffled him despite his gift. He had never understood how something so unfathomable, so boundless, so mysterious could mean so much to other people. Attraction? Physicality? Companionship? Devotion? That Aro was capable of understanding, of having. He had had his fair share of sexual partners during the years, and he was fiercely loyal to his family, valued his coven. Love, however, had escaped him. Until now. And it was too late.
A howl escaped him and Aro struck the floor with his fists, pounding and pounding, destroying the hardwood as the realization hit him. He was never going to hear Isabella say those words to him, to look at him like she had looked at the young Cullen boy, to feel her touch him in flesh. Only in those stolen memories…
"A-aro?" that gasped, shocked whisper had Aro whipping his head around in a flash.
Sulpicia was standing in the doorway of his bedroom – a room she hadn't stepped foot willingly in the last seven centuries more or less, if his memory served him right. Her expression was horrified and one of her delicate pale hands was in front of her mouth while the other clutched at the front of her dress.
"What are you doing here?" Aro asked her slowly and his wife took a step backward at the growl in his voice. He must look a sight; his shirt torn, scratches oozing venom, hair disheveled. No one ever was supposed to see him this weak, so out of control of the demon. He had always been so careful to present himself as perfectly in control that even his fits of temper felt premeditated.
"What are you staring at?" That rage returned with a vengeance when Sulpicia remained silent, just looking at him. He rose to his feet, smoothed the shreds of his shirt, and combed his fingers through his hair sidestepping the holes in the floor. "Speak, or the gods help me, you will regret interrupting my solitude."
She would regret seeking him out anyway. He couldn't afford to let the word spread, could he? Aro knew what they all thought of him, the nomads, the visiting covens, their enemies. He heard their thoughts echo in his head constantly, that low murmur of voices like the ocean whispering in the night.
Insane. Weak. Unfit to rule. If his wife ever told what she had seen… No.
She wasn't fast enough and could only flinch when Aro moved across the room and grabbed her arm, grasping her hand in his forcefully.
He had missed dinner with Caius, Dora, and Marcus. Strange, none of them had tried to check up on him. Dora had instead sought Cia out, sharing the wonderful news with her confidentially. Sulpicia couldn't wait to be rid of him, of the prison he had built for her in Volterra.
"What?" Aro roared, baring his teeth in a snarl.
Come now, Aro, you know she wants to run as far away from you as the confines of this planet will allow. That voice was back, taunting him. Aro tightened his grip on Sulpicia and dragged her closer, snarling into her terrified face, "Is that so?"
"You're hurting me, Aro," she begged. He knew he was, but all Aro could see was his wife's desperate need to be free of him; of her life in Volterra, of his grasp on her, of the never-ending boredom of having nothing to do and nowhere to go. That's why she had come, to beg him to grant her leave of Volterra. A divorce, at last. She had been sick of her duties for centuries. Sullen, unhappy, spoiling his mood every time they crossed paths. And now she wanted to make him look like a…
The air was filled with her pitiful sobs, cracks forming on her hand and forearm. "Please, Aro, stop. Please…"
Big eyes gazed up at him from a pale face. They were red instead of brown but the emotion in them was the same. Scared. Cia was scared of him.
Because you're a monstrous beast, the voice supplied gleefully. Look what you're doing to a woman you promised to cherish.
Aro let go of her arm abruptly, flinging it away and stepping back hastily. He had promised her that – and more – when he had been wooing Cia. She had been so vivacious, laughing openly, loving the new fantastical world he had shown her. But being married to him had robbed her of her liveliness, sucked her happiness out of her.
Watching as she cradled her arm close to her chest, terrified to even breathe, Aro forced out, "My apologies. This is not the best of times."
"So I noticed."
He wasn't… hadn't been an abusive husband. Just neglectful, unavailable. Aro had wanted to have what his brothers had, and he had gone about it in the safest way possible. He had selected his wife while she was still human and then had turned her himself… But she just wasn't right for him, and Aro had known that as soon as Sulpicia had woken up into her new existence. They hadn't been right together, not in the same way Marcus and Didy had been, or Caius and Athena. There hadn't been a single little spark, let alone lightning. Just the idea of tediously building a bond to Cia had been more than Aro could bear. He had rebuffed her attempts at emotional closeness many times and his wife had stopped trying eventually. After that, it had taken only a couple of decades and even their attraction had waned, leaving their marriage empty, pointless.
Your fault. It's always your fault. This time, Aro agreed with the voice and his shoulders slumped. Everything he touched was spoiled. One day soon, he would tear apart their family, and even the Volturi Guard and their great purpose would fall to dust. His life's work, the only thing that made sense anymore would be gone. Guiltily, Aro continued staring at his wife as she stared back at him. His brothers would rue the day they had met him. His wife… Sulpicia had tried to love him, and she had been patient. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea to show her some goodwill…
She won't keep her mouth shut, warned him the voice. That was also true Sulpicia had no filter – whatever went through her brain made it out of her mouth. It had been endearing, once. He had liked that both her words and her thoughts were always in accord; such openness was a rare treat. Now it was a liability.
She's a liability. Aro nodded and looked to the side, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. My, he truly looked as deranged as he felt. Like a uxoricide. It forced him to chuckle and, squaring his shoulders, he took a slow, deliberate step toward Sulpicia. Raising his hands, Aro tried to appear as non-threatening as possible.
"You want to leave me and the Volturi behind, is that correct?" Aro asked her softly, soothingly. She hadn't wanted anything else for the last thousand years but Aro had always convinced her to wait. He had enemies who would gleefully kill her, and no one would dare to touch her while she resided in Volterra as his wife. Sulpicia wasn't stupid and she had known that her safety depended on her ability to play the devoted wife in public. With a mate in the picture, Cia believed she could leave. Just like that.
You can't allow that, you know. Aro did know that. He wasn't planning to. She knew too much – about Aro, about the Volturi, about the limits of the Guards.
"Y-yes. Now that you no longer need me…" Sulpicia fell silent when he took hold of her hands gently. Oh, she was so afraid of him, of what he would do to her. She could see it in his dead eyes, feel in the softness of his touch. Cia believed that Aro was at his most dangerous not when he raged but when he was seemingly composed, not when he snarled and roared but when he smiled. It wasn't like he had let her see the truth. She had never seen how violent he could get in the privacy of his tower, and she had a good reason to be afraid. Aro was dangerous under any circumstances; even when he was happy. The truth was sickening. As was what he was going to do. Once, Aro had promised Cia the world, but he couldn't even give her the one thing she so desperately deserved.
You know it needs to be done. So do it. What's one more sin on your conscience? That voice chuckled now in an awfully familiar way and Aro closed his eyes, shaking his head. Sulpicia was confused by the gesture but an insane hope blossomed in her mind all the same. She so longed for her freedom, for the opportunity to see the world, find her own mate, be happy…
She didn't want that much. Her wishes were so simple and it was entirely in Aro's power to give Sulpicia her chance at a new life. Why shouldn't he? They both could finally be happy, live the life they deserved and wanted. Her thoughts were selflessly kind to him, pleading with him without words. Didn't Aro want a fresh start as well? A clean slate and a clear path for the mate of his soul?
You don't have a soul, do you? The voice asked him, cutting off abruptly Sulpicia's jumbled thoughts. Aro had destroyed his chances at such a life when he had given Isabella up. Being reminded of it hurt so much he felt like falling to his knees and weeping again. Instead, he let go of Cia's hands and placed his palms on her cheeks, thumbs caressing her cheekbones. The edges of his hands rested just under her jawline. All it would take was just one forceful tug.
"Aro, no," she breathed softly, voice shaking. Sulpicia was beautiful in her frightened state. Her eyes shone with venom, pink lips parted, and her mind came to a blissful frozen stop when she realized Aro was going to rip her head off.
"You know nothing about his soul." The words surfaced from the sea of other thoughts and memories, unbidden. Isabella spoke with such a conviction that Aro's insides clenched painfully. Those words suddenly echoed inside his mind so loudly that they drove out every other voice and sound and thought. All Aro could see was Isabella.
Small, wet, shaking, her fragile human body almost giving up on her. Yet the fire in her eyes burnt him even through the memory. She was such a selfless creature. "Don't hurt them."
She wouldn't want him to kill Cia, couldn't stand the idea. She would have offered her own life to sate his hunger for violence, feeling responsible for his agitation. And Aro? Aro couldn't stand the thought of giving Isabella more reason to hate him, to fear him… Even if she wasn't here to see it. She would never know how a mere human moved a vampire king.
How could he have forgotten? Isabella did not believe vampires damned. Soulless. She believed that vampires – that Aro – weren't any worse off than mere humans when it came to their souls. He could pretend that she had spoken about him, about Aro's soul, just for a moment. He could pretend that she cared.
"Go," he rasped and pushed Sulpicia out of the door with one forceful shove. She didn't stop to think about it and disappeared as fast as she could. The last thing Aro felt from his wife was her elation, her utter and blissful relief at finally being let go. He clung to that feeling as Isabella's face faded from his mind, and quickly shut the door.
That was the quickest divorce in the history of bureaucracy, he thought. With his back pressed to the closed door, Aro slid to the ground, letting out a mirthless chuckle. He hoped that he just hadn't made an enormous mistake that was the beginning of the end for the Volturi but he found that he no longer cared.
Cia's wish for both their happiness was touching after everything he had put her through, and letting her go was… It was something that made Aro feel lighter. That couldn't be a bad thing, could it? Gods, he wasn't sure – but his gods were long dead, buried under the sands of time together with the rest of the ancient people that had worshipped them.
Aro was too old for this. He had seen empires rise and fall, great civilizations destroyed, priceless artifacts and arts and cultures crumbled to dust, and yet he remained unchanged and unchanging and he was tired of it all. What good was eternity if you had no one to share it with?
Meeting the eyes of his reflection across the bedroom, he grinned bitterly. The Aro in the mirror returned the smile and his mind was strangely, wonderfully silent for the time being. He had been selfish for so long that being selfless left him exhausted and Aro wished for the stillness of final death desperately. It would deliver him from the pain, bring him finally the peace he so craved.
Only one thing brought him comfort. It wouldn't be long. Aro couldn't live in a world where his mate belonged to another – and by his own design no less. Even as he was sitting there, his whole being wanted to race toward Forks, Washington, to make sure Isabella's transformation was progressing well. In three days, she'd an immortal and forever out of his reach once she bonded to the whelp.
A sharp stab of pure agony resurfaced through the fog of his mind and Aro bared his teeth at the thought of Edward Cullen. He hated the boy. Marcus had been so certain that Isabella's attachment to the youngster would result in mating and Aro doubted that the obstinate child would turn such a gift away – the state of vampire souls notwithstanding.
But it was for the better. Aro did not want Isabella anywhere near Volterra. He had almost torn Cia to pieces, Isabella shouldn't come near him. If there was even the slightest sliver of a chance, he was afraid that he would take it. His resolve was already wavering and Aro feared he wasn't strong enough to keep his distance. If Isabella wasn't mated to someone else, his resolution would crumble away. Then she'd be in danger.
With that thought, Aro forcefully relaxed his posture. He had read Edward's mind and there was one thing he admired the young vampire for – they both were willing to go to extreme lengths to keep Isabella safe. He needed to know she was somewhere safe, far from him.
Aro started laughing, the sound lacking anything resembling mirth or joy. It was harsh and despairing and he covered his eyes with his hands for just a second, blocking the sight of his face in the mirror. He hated the Cullen boy, but Aro was beginning to understand that he should hate himself even more. Others certainly did despise him.
Perhaps Aro would go wander. He'd pick fights with nomads or maybe taunt the Romanians. He doubted that Caius would be willing to assist him and Marcus would outright refuse given the fact Aro had denied him the very same request when Didy had been killed.
His laughter sounded more like dry sobs. His sister's death hurt almost as much as Isabella's loss. Aro hadn't thought about Didy in years – it was a topic he usually shied away from, too guilty to visit even the memory of her. Aro's arrogance in his infallibility had cost him both his sister and brother for Marcus had never recovered from Didy's death.
Now that he had an inkling of what Marcus had been going through all these years, he admired his brother's resilience, Marcus's sense of loyalty to the rest of the family. Aro didn't have that, didn't have any of his brother's strength. He wouldn't last for a year, let alone for one thousand.
Oh, Didy would have loved Isabella so much. He could picture it so clearly. Shy, sweet Isabella and his gentle sister would have been such great friends, loving sisters. They would have made even Caius smile.
With another sigh, Aro rose to his feet and surveyed the mess of his clothes and his bedroom. He changed the shirt, again, combed his hair, and took refuge in his study for the time being. In three days, the waiting would be over and then he could start planning the last leg of his journey on this world. In the meantime, there was no reason to alarm his brothers. He could continue pretending just for a little longer.
Aro buried himself in books, enjoying the silence of his rooms. Every moment like this was one to be cherished – they never lasted long. Soon, the whispers in his mind would rise again, and surely Caius would demand his presence in the court come morning. Maybe Aro should relocate there and just endure the hours on his throne?
He had a neat little trick up his sleeve – while Marcus usually retreated into his memories of happier times, Aro liked to wander the vast expanses of other people's minds. He had exact copies of their every thought, feeling, and experience. Maybe he'd go and see Isabella again. Feeding his obsession with his mate wasn't going to make things easier, but he was already so far gone that he could just as well enjoy his fall, couldn't he?
She was his and she would be his – in his twisted mind, unbeating heart, and damned soul – for the rest of his un-life. It didn't matter that Isabella would never have any idea, wouldn't even know how irrevocably Aro was also hers.
Perhaps it was divine justice? How many mated pairs had Aro's judgment torn apart? It was an unspoken rule to take the heads of both vampires of the couple because the separation was so unimaginably cruel that even the soulless Volturi leaders couldn't phantom it. How ironic. He had been kinder to strangers than he'd been to himself.
There was a knock at the bottom of the stairs leading up to his private chambers.
"Master, your presence is required in the throne room," said Santiago softly. His voice was hesitant and he sounded uncomfortable. Santiago never felt quite bold enough to demand anything from Aro, even when relying Caius's summons. "It's urgent."
It always was, of course.
"What is it?" Aro sighed, closed his book so very carefully, and checked his appearance as he put on a jacket. He foregone a tie and instead hung the heavy Volturi pendant around his neck, speeding down to meet the Guard. As he passed the windows, he realized that it was evening already and the skies were streaked with the red of the dying sun. He'd lost time again, just drifting in the unexpected silence of his head.
Santiago flinched at Aro's sudden appearance and Aro smiled at him and held out his hand. He did a routine check with the Guards once a month, after every mission, and when something unusual was happening. Reading people was just so much quicker than waiting for them to speak. That way, they couldn't even think about deceiving him.
The Guard hesitated for a second, his eyes flicking to the ground. With his gaze still trained at the floor, he raised his arm and let Aro snatch his hand.
Oh. My. Aro felt his whole body stiffen and he fought to control his expression as Santiago's thoughts flitted into his mind. The younger vampire was afraid of what was going on. Jane and Alec were missing. Demetri and Felix were nowhere to be found after their report to Marcus of all people. The rest of the Guard was unnerved, they felt that something wasn't right – hadn't been since March. Santiago had drawn the short straw and had to come and inform Aro. And then there were the Cullens, asking for an audience with him and his brothers at the very moment. Hadn't they caused Aro enough grief and pain? Hadn't they taken enough from him?
"What do they want?!"
The growl made Santiago fall to his knees and offer the back of his neck in the ultimate position of submission. His hand slipped from Aro's grasp and the Guard whimpered, "I do not know, Master. Forgive me."
He couldn't know, Santiago wasn't the resident mind-reader, was he? Aro clenched his jaw shut to keep another snarl in. Santiago was still looking at the ground, so Aro felt safe in running his hand over his face. Aro hadn't read the Guards in months. He had been remiss in his duties as the leader of this coven. He hadn't been himself since laying his eyes on Isabella and his secret wasn't even that secret anymore.
Marcus could see people's bonds but Chelsea, his oldest surviving fledgling, could manipulate them. She could either strengthen or weaken them and was therefore aware that there was a tie between Aro and Isabella of the strength of a mating bond. In her concern for her maker, Chelsea had shared that information with her fellow Guards. He had had no idea of the agitation of his subjects. They were restless, fidgety, concerned for him, and even speculating about the exact nature of the twins' disappearance. Had they gone to protect his mate? Didn't Aro trust the rest of the Guards with her presence?
It was already happening, the Volturi were wavering.
Because of you. That's how you repay your brothers' care, your Guards' loyalty. By letting them down, pushing them toward their own doom. The voice hissed, back from the deepest pits of his mind. Aro was weak and fallible and his judgment shouldn't be trusted. He couldn't even trust himself to think clearly, why should others follow his lead? How long will it take for the Romanians to wipe off the rest of your family after you're gone? No wonder your mate would prefer a whelp of a boy over a weakling who doesn't even try.
This time, the growl couldn't be contained. His gift had been one of the reasons their coven had amassed such influence. Aro was the power behind the Volturi. Sooner or later, he would read every immortal, see their very hearts, understand them better than they understood themselves. There was no way how to deceive a mind-reader such as him while he knew exactly the limits of his opponents. Keeping Carlisle's psychic daughter in the dark was easy once he knew how her gift worked, and that was one example of many. The only way for Aro to lose was if he crippled his chances himself.
Stop moping around. Maybe your mate will change her mind if you lay the world at her feet. The voice softened, sounded wistful. Someone to love us, unconditionally… Wouldn't that be nice?
A shudder of pleasure ran down Aro's spine as another image of Isabella rose in his mind.
She was looking at him among wildflowers. Dozens upon dozens of small white or violet or yellow flowers were blossoming around them, and she was beautiful. Sitting up, she reached out with her hand, her eyes wide and awestruck as the sunlight reflected off his skin. Then, softly, slowly, she touched her fingertips to his forearm. It tickled. It was silent. It was heaven.
"Do you mind?" She asked, tracing her fingers down to touch his palm – as if he would ever object, as if she hadn't just given him the greatest gift in the world. In response, he curled his fingers around her palm and brought it to his lips.
She's ours. When have you ever allowed anyone to steal what was yours? The voice asked and a cold ringing of steel in it made Aro's spine straighten. It was the truth. Aro had always been a graceless loser, and did everything in his power – cheating included – to never be the one defeated.
Was the voice suggesting what Aro thought he was suggesting? Should he pursue Isabella? Could he have a chance? It wasn't too late, was it? He frantically tried to focus, to think. He had lost time, but surely it hadn't been three days yet. If the Cullens had been foolish enough to bring dear Isabella right into his city, Aro wasn't letting her go for the third time – even if it wasn't safe, even if it's going to end up in tragedy and broken dreams.
Look what her absence does to you, the voice urged him. Just think, Aro. Focus.
Think he did. If stolen memories of Isabella brought him hours of silence, how much better her actual presence would be at calming the storm of his thoughts? That was something to consider. Perhaps that was the answer and he had been torturing himself unnecessarily? Aro would rather light himself on fire than hurt his mate. The question was… would he be able to realize that he was out of control? He didn't trust himself, not in the current state.
I won't let you hurt her, the voice promised solemnly. If she by some miracle becomes ours, no one including you will harm her as long as we exist.
"Very well," Aro said and glanced at the kneeling Guard. "Let us be on our way, then."
Santiago jumped to his feet and hastily opened the door for him, falling into step behind Aro as they glided to the more inhabited parts of the Palace. Impatient as he was, Aro soon left him behind as he hurried toward the throne room.
While Aro appeared calm and collected on the outside, the tide of darkness was rising again inside him. He welcomed it, embraced it. It would get him through this and if he happened to tear dear Carlisle and his family into shreds, then so be it.
Oh, yes, let's do that. The voice hummed in agreement. When they were in accord, terrible things usually followed; the most memorable were the crusades against the immortal children, and that infamous werewolf hunts. But Aro wasn't going to focus on that. He had visitors to meet… and a bonfire to light, perhaps?
Oh, no, no. He shouldn't get too violent. Isabella would disapprove.
You know you'll have to show her even the ugliest parts of us, don't you? The voice whispered a little agitated, and Aro swallowed, tilting his head to the side and considering the words.
Yes, of course. His mate had to accept him – all of him – otherwise the bonding wouldn't take place. And if his dear Isabella did reject him, as was her right… What was the point in keeping the demon chained up? Surely someone would be kind enough to put him out of his misery if he showed them just what he was capable of if unrestrained.
The darkness in him grinned in response and a small chuckle escaped Aro's lips. There had been glimpses but Aro doubted they could imagine the extent of the damage his sanity had sustained over the millennia… but he really shouldn't think so bleakly now, should he? Isabella hadn't rejected him yet – the poor dear didn't even know that Aro was her possible mate. My, my, that had been neglectful of him, hadn't it? No matter. He was going to rectify that situation soon.
One thing was certain, though. Aro was done being selfless, and he was sick of keeping himself in check.
AN2: Poor Aro. His chapter was incredibly difficult to write and the formatting is totally messed up and I can't figure what's the problem. Hopefully, it's still readable. Let me know what you think about our poor dear psychotic vampire. Who is curious about what's going to happen next? It's gonna be Carlisle's turn.