A/N: Going to keep this short because it's the early AM and that means I'm more liable to ramble and write utter shit. When I say you guys blow me away with your reviews/insights, I really mean that you blow. me. away. Thank you so much for taking the time to join me on this journey. I appreciate every one of you. I can't see there being more than 4 (if even) chapters left to this, so buckle in. Another person who blows me away?
SunflowerFran
Yah, that's right, she totally deserves a whole line to herself because she fucking rocks. Now that I've done that, I'm going to let you read because I can feel myself cringing at my own author's note.
PART III: SWAN
Chapter 28
In a flash of movement, Edward winds his fist in Peter's shirt and yanks him away from Charlotte. The force sends Charlotte tumbling, requiring Bella to telekinetically stop her from colliding with the cabin wall. Blinded by an angry haze, Edward is unable to process anyone else besides the younger boy in his grasp.
"You dare lay a hand on the Princess of Cullenia?" he seethes. Bella can see the flecks of spittle that land on Peter's face, "You dare touch my sister?"
"Edward, if you don't let go of him this instant-," Charlotte begins, struggling to right herself.
"Charlie, it's okay," Peter squeaks out, "I can handle this."
Edward lifts his other hand threateningly, and allows his skin to be covered with a thin layer of fire, "Can you?"
"I apologize for upsetting you," Peter rushes, causing Bella to sigh with relief, as she thinks his apology may knock some sense into Edward. Unfortunately, the relief is short-lived, "But I do not regret kissing Charlotte. I cannot pretend I don't have affections for her."
"Then you proclaim it in an honorable and chaste way," Edward grits, bringing his flaming hand closer to Peter's skin. Even from a few feet away, Bella can see the thin sheen of sweat that begins to cover Peter's forehead. "Not in a way that inspires me to use your spine as a scepter-,"
"I proclaim it now," Peter announces loudly, "I love Charlotte Anne Cullen, and I vow to show it to her every day. You cannot stop me."
Edward's climbing anger is practically palpable at this point, and Bella can no longer stand by and give Peter a chance to talk his way out of this. Utterly outraged at his behavior, Bella calls out to Edward.
"Edward, you will let that boy go immediately or else I will subject you to my full wrath," Bella warns, "Need I remind you of how non-chastely you were touching me moments prior?"
As if the wind billowing behind his sails of fury had ceased, Edward deflates and unhands the quivering teen. Realization of his ridiculous behavior visibly descends upon him as his ears turn dark red, and he averts his gaze. Despite the beginning showings of remorse, Charlotte wastes no time in marching up to her older brother and delivering a few unrestrained pounds to his chest. Bella sighs as she uses her telekinesis once again, to drag the Princess backward.
When had her life turned into gossip-worthy drama?
"Charlotte, please accompany Peter to the Whitlock residence. I will be there shortly," Bella instructs before gritting to the man in front of her, "Edward, may I have a word with you?"
Once Peter and Charlotte scamper away, Edward raises two hands in surrender, "I know I was wrong, but you have to understand how jarring it is for me to see a grubby little teenager with his paws all over Charlie."
"I don't blame you for being protective, but that was horrific," Bella chastises, "Not too long ago you were his age, probably trying the same antics with a maiden in the courts."
Edward let out a short laugh, "I was never as brazen."
Bella raises a brow in challenge.
"Hardly as much," Edward corrects himself with a sigh, "The most I ever did was foolishly fumble with a Lord's daughter, but I would never think to do as much in such open territory."
"So you would have preferred he kiss her in her room then," Bella remarks.
"I would have preferred he kept his perverted hands to himself," Edward growls.
"What is so perverted about young love?" Bella asks, "They were hardly doing anything lewd. All you're doing is shaming them when they deserve no such treatment."
"They hardly know each other," Edward argues, "It's too soon."
"Others might say the same for us," Bella rebuts.
"We've known each other for months," he counters.
"You touch me like we've known each other for years," she shoots back.
"Am I supposed to feel chastised or aroused by this conversation?" Edward asks in response.
Bella's cheeks flush a deep red, "Focus, Edward. You owe Peter, Charlotte, and the Whitlocks an apology."
"Or else?" he prompts.
"Or else you will have a rather chaste week ahead of you," Bella calls as she begins to take flight.
When Bella reaches the Whitlock's house a few minutes later, she doesn't know whether to laugh or shudder at what had transpired. She's seen Edward angry before, but his response to Peter emphasizes just how protective he is of his loved ones. It is strangely arousing and terrifying.
Jasper is not surprised to see Bella when she lands at his threshold. He invites her inside to where Alice is waiting patiently. Peter and Charlotte trail a few feet behind, as her flight had given her the advantage of speed.
"I suppose you're here to tell me that the King of Cullenia wants to kill my son?" Jasper guesses as he pinches the bridge of his nose
"I'm sure Edward doesn't feel that strongly," Bella defends, "He just has a flair for the dramatic."
"What does our son have for Princesses?" Alice clucks, "First Bella, now Princess Charlotte-,"
"Y'a-ma," Peter rushes into the house to cut Alice off before she can say anything else, "My crush on Bella was childish, but Charlotte's different. I love her."
Alice smacks the back of her son's head, "Will you continue professing foolishly until the King demands your skull as his crown?"
"Mrs. Whitlock, I promise you Edward will do nothing of the sort," Charlotte assures hurriedly. Bella can't help but notice the way that she's clutching onto Peter's hand.
"Are you calling me Mrs. Whitlock now because my son kissed you?" Alice snorts, "You forget that I saw this coming."
Charlotte blushes so deeply that it causes Bella to snicker behind her hand. She can only imagine the excitement that is coursing through the young girl, and she can't wait to discuss the new developments with her later. For now, she must play the dutiful chaperone.
"This being said, no matter the disarray of our times, there are still proprieties to be followed for young courters," Bella explains as she clears her throat.
"In case you are unaware of these customs, I'll refresh the two of you," Jasper stands and heads over to the teens, "Why don't we enjoy the last of the daylight and take a walk?"
Knowing it is more an order than an actual suggestion, Charlotte and Peter once more follow Jasper out of the house. Alice and Bella are left in the silence that follows their exit. The reality of the tension between them settles back into the room, and Bella feels disheartened at the loss of her easygoing dynamic with the Whitlocks. Nothing has really changed between her and Peter –he still pesters her endlessly, and she still dotes on him as if he is her younger sibling. But the betrayal of his parents lingers over their heads, especially each time they walk past his cabin. Of course, Bella never says anything maligning about the Whitlocks in or away from Peter's presence. Yet, the look of distrust on her face is enough to say everything.
She wears the same wary expression now, as she looks at Alice. It's only been a few weeks since she's come back, but somehow Alice seems to have aged. Dark circles and an array of wrinkles cradle her eyes, and frown lines have become more prominent at the corners of her mouth. Her gaze flickers unsurely across the room as if she can't decide on what to focus. Granted, the atmosphere in the room is uncomfortable, but not even Bella is jittering in the same manner as Alice. When the older woman speaks, she causes both Bella and herself to jump at the disruption of quiet.
"I have to admit, I'm surprised you actually came," Alice speaks, "Of course, I predicted it, but I was sure your decision would change at the last minute."
"I need some answers, and I think you might have them," Bella explains, "This isn't a social visit."
Alice purses her lips briefly and then says grimly, "I know. You haven't forgiven me."
And I'm not sure I will, Bella finishes internally.
"What can I help you with?" Alice asks in order to fill the thick silence.
"Did you see Alec being ambushed?" Bella begins.
"Not until it was too late," Alice answers, "They weren't meant to cross paths."
"And have you had any other visions pertaining to our futures?" Bella presses.
"None that make any sense," she replies before muttering, "And I'm not sure whether I should tell you once I do discern them."
Bella reels, not appreciating the slight bite to Alice's tone, "My issues were never with your visions. I have a problem with your selective concealment."
"I understand that. However, this is all new to me as well, Bella," she sighs, "By no means am I an expert at being a Seer, and I know my decisions caused you a world of pain."
"So you're not going to tell me anything," Bella scoffs, "That's your plan?"
"Not until I am absolutely sure of what I am seeing," Alice says with finality, "But I know you're coming for answers related to the Guardians, which is irrelevant to my seeing in the future. You need the past."
"I don't have access to history," Bella grits, wondering how Alice could prove to be so unhelpful.
"We have books on the prophecy-,"
"What about former prophecies? What about my ancestors," Bella presses, an idea coming to her, "Surely the previous Guardians would have written of their experiences."
"Any account of that would be in Volturia or buried on Cullen Isle," Alice reminds her, "All I have are the diaries of my own ancestors, and knowing my family, the few passages that aren't mundane are probably nonsensical. I wouldn't rely on them."
"Then there can't be any harm in me looking through them," Bella points out, desperate for any information she can learn, "Please, may I look at them?"
Alice gives a final huff before getting up and trudging to the guestroom. Bella can hear her shuffling through several drawers, unloading items until she can reach the diaries. When she returns, Bella's eyes are drawn to the three, leather-bound journals clasped in Alice's hands. They're small, each no bigger than the span of Bella's hand and about the thickness of her palm. Branded into the bottom right corner of each, red-dyed cover is the name of three generations of Seers: Mary Brandon, Cynthia Brandon, and Eleanor Brandon.
"My mother, grandmother, and Cynthia's great-grandmother," Alice points out, "Take them for as long as you need."
"Thank you," Bella nods as she accepts them.
Later that night, Bella creeps into her chambers after escorting Charlotte to her bedroom. The young Princess had promised to share everything with Bella later, insisting that she needed a few days to get her thoughts together. Understanding how conflicting her feelings must be, Bella has the decency not to press the matter. Instead, she retires to Edward's room with Alice's journals in hand, fully prepared to spend the next hour or so reminding Edward of how outrageous his actions had been. Upon entering the room, Bella sees that this conversation will also have to wait. Even though it isn't too late in the night, Edward has already fallen asleep. It must have happened unexpectedly as he is still fully dressed and lying atop the covers. She snickers and sets the journals down before making her way to his side of the bed.
Gently, she tugs his shoes from his feet and lays them at the foot of the bed. She then removes his overcoat (with a little telekinetic assistance) and moves to untie the strings of his pants. She doesn't intend to remove them fully, but doesn't want him to feel constricted during the night. The moment her fingers pull the drawstring, Edward rouses.
"Why am I not surprised that you would wake for this part?" Bella rolls her eyes.
"Not that this isn't a rather welcome surprise, but what exactly are you doing?" Edward grumbles in response.
"You fell asleep in your day clothing," Bella informs him, "Get changed so you can be comfortable."
"Where is Charlie?" he yawns as he tugs down his pants. She tries to keep her gaze on his face but falters slightly. She's never seen Edward in his breeches, as he's always come to their bed in his night pants.
"In her room," Bella answers, "I don't believe she'll be having any terrors tonight, she was so tired."
"Well, at least that damned Whitlock boy is good for something," Edward scowls. He finally tosses his pants across the room and slips beneath the covers. Bella takes the cue that her help is no longer needed and steps behind the changing curtain to switch into her night clothing.
"What are these?" Edward asks.
She doesn't need to look from behind the screen to know what he is referring to, "The diaries of the previous generations of Seers."
"By the placement of your bookmark it appears you've already gotten quite far through Cynthia's," he notes, "Anything of interest as yet?"
"Not really," Bella sighs, "Just the daily life of raising Mary Brandon. Worst of all is that every now and then there's a sentence or paragraph that doesn't make sense. And there's another thing that's been bothering me considering each Seer has a set of Guardians."
"What is it?" Edward questions.
"If the Guardian insignia is passed down through Volturi and Cullen bloodlines, then who were the marked Guardians of our parents' generation?" Bella asks, "Aro had one other sibling, and he passed away when he was younger, and I can't remember seeing my father's insignia before."
Edward furrows his brows, "My father had two siblings, both of whom died quite some time ago. But if the spirit of the Guardian wasn't awakened in them, does it matter?"
"I'm not sure," Bella shakes her head with confusion, "I'm sorry, you didn't wake up to be bombarded with questions. You should go back to sleep."
Edward leans over to press a kiss to her cheek, "I want to help in whatever way I can. Wake me for anything, and don't stay up too late."
"Goodnight, my fiery king," she bids him.
The next hours are spent painstakingly trying to sift through the journals. Bella spends the most time on Cynthia's, as it is the least decipherable. It is not the overall content that slows Bella down; the recounts of raising Mary and reflections on her own childhood are both warming and intriguing. The issue is the seamless way in which Cynthia's thoughts travel from one scene to another. For instance:
Dear Diary,
Richard built a swing for Mary today, and she absolutely adores it. She's spent the last two hours swinging up and down and up and down, and I haven't the heart to tell her to stop. That unruly hair of hers becomes even more so unmanageable as it waves in the wind and I can tell I'll have a struggle trying to brush it later. Perhaps I should leave it until tomorrow?
Maybe I should light another candle. It's rather dark, and the staff has retired for the night. However, despite the slits in the walls, there isn't much ventilation and the room is rather stuffy. Although, I suppose blackened stones do not help the heat in the present moment, but what do I know?
Does she know? Does he? They've crossed paths and yet, because their hearts aren't awakened, they don't know how intimately they are linked. I should tell Richard and Mary to come inside.
It will happen soon.
Bella has read this passage four times, struggling to move past it. After the fifth time, despite the odd way in which the hairs on her arms stand on end, she finally moves to the next few pages. They confuse her just as much as the previous ones, and she becomes further frustrated. She's convinced she's reached her breaking point when a name catches her eye.
Emilia wants to name our son Edward, but I refuse to have another one in our line. Having 'the fifth' tacked onto my name is tedious enough, but to willingly subject my son to that? No, he will have an original name with which he will strike reverence into his subjects. I wonder what he will look like?
I wonder if he will play with Mary once he's older? As the days draw nearer, I wish to see his face just once before it is too late. Although, perhaps it is the price I must pay for not warning them. Annabelle will not have seen him either.
A sense of foreboding overcomes Bella as she flips to the next entry. The script is noticeably less elegant, a messy and frazzled scrawl. The sentences are shorter and rather disjointed, but from what Bella can decipher she can pull out a few phrases. She draws in a deep breath as she reads:
There is a terrible sickness across the lands. It has claimed the Royals. I should have told them. I should have warned them. But they were not awakened. Even if I could interfere, there was nothing I could do.
Bella wastes no time picking up Eleanor's book and skimming through the pages. Now that she knows what to look for, she can skip the more unintelligible entries. All the while, her hand is shaking as she drags her finger down each leaf, hoping that her fears won't be confirmed. As another name jumps out from the page, foreboding fills her.
Queen Charlotte Cullen, the first of her time, has passed today. Her death follows shortly after Prince Christopher Volturi. They both had long and prosperous lives, and the kingdoms celebrate their influence on the lands. Of course, they mourn the loss of their royalty, but they are also in wonder at the timing. They do not know better. I do.
Her mind begins racing as she catalogues the names that had been mentioned: Edward Cullen V, Charlotte Cullen I, Christopher Volturi, and Annabelle, whom Bella knows to be a part of her Volturi lineage. When Bella had read the history of Cullenia all those months ago in the library of Cullen Castle, she had come across the names of Edward's ancestors. She had even found it amusing that Edward and Charlotte were named after those in the family before them. However, the scrolls had not been able to account for the Guardians of those generations, as indicated by the footnote that had read Guardianias iminato. Now that Bella has the journals of the Seers, she also has the names of the Guardians of their generations. What had seemed to be nonsensical ramblings were actually visions in which the Seers had experienced the surroundings and thoughts of the Guardians, much like Alice had done for Bella.
In Cynthia's journal, she had inhabited Annabelle Volturi, switching from the scene of watching Mary swing, to being transported to the black-bricked walls of the Volturi Castle. In another entry, she'd envisioned Edward Cullen V, as he decided against naming his son 'Edward.' She ends the entry in an unsettling manner by both agonizing over the impending death of the Guardians and wishing that she'd had the chance to meet them before their demise.
In Eleanor's journal, she recounted the death of Queen Charlotte Cullen I and Prince Christopher Volturi. The entry starts rather factually in mentioning that their deaths were within a day's time of one another, but then ends in the same unnerving manner that Cynthia's entry had. She was the holder of information she could not share. She had seen their deaths coming, and could do nothing to stop it. She was a Seer in the greatest sense of the word.
While these realizations should fill Bella with some sense of achievement at having deciphered them, the larger message has her trembling. A noticeable trend in all three journals is the eerie coincidences of the Guardians' deaths. Both Annabelle and Edward had died from the plague, and Charlotte and Christopher had perished within days of one another. Bella is sure that if she were to read Mary's journal that it would recount the death of Aro's sibling coinciding with the death of one of King Felix's siblings.
Bella's body reacts before her mind can comprehend. The journal in her hand clatters against the armoire across the room, its loud thud echoing in the night due to the force with which it had been thrown. The noise causes Edward to stir, and he wearily peels open an eye to inspect the premises. Before he can see the tear tracks on her face, she blows out the bedside candle.
"Are you coming to sleep?" he croaks tiredly.
"Yes," Bella whispers.
"What was that noise?" he asks.
"I dropped a book," Bella answers.
"Oh, well, I can pick it up in the morning," he yawns, "Come here."
Needing no further prompting, Bella reclines and turns so that her back is to Edward. Lazily, he throws his arm across her midsection and pulls her close, tucking her beneath his chin. In a few seconds, she can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest that indicates his slumber, and she focuses on the steady thrum of his heart against her back to try and relax. Unfortunately, the effort proves wasteful. With every beat of his heart, she's reminded of her very own, and the fact that it is not linked to his. Hers is connected to his brother's, which beats thousands of miles away … and if it stops?
Hers will too.
~SWAN~
"You've lost some weight since I last saw you," Esme comments as she slides a bowl of stew in front of Bella.
It's a wonder Bella can hear her over the thrum of conversation in the room. Jacob has opened up the general hall of his home once more to have a dinner, and his invite list had been extensive. He'd moved in several tables to accommodate everyone, and despite the tension that Bella has with some of the persons present, it warms her to see so many faces. It's the most uplifted she's felt in the past two weeks since she'd delved into the Seers' journals. She's tried her best to conceal her distress, but the niggling fear that sits at the base of her stomach makes it difficult for her to eat. Esme is not the first to comment on her slight change of appearance; Edward had also taken note the other night when he'd wound an arm around her waist. However, he's been so busy monitoring the deployment of his troops in Cullenia that he hasn't had a chance to press her on the matter. He'd promised to speak to her tonight when all the festivities are finished.
"I haven't really had an appetite with all that's going on," Bella admits.
"Yes, the resurgence of the Cullenian militia has us all holding our breaths, but you can't let it affect your health," Esme warns.
"I'm fine," Bella grumbles, wanting to take the attention off herself. A question comes to mind that gives her material for a distraction, "Did Aro ever speak to you about his grandmother?"
"Annabelle?" Esme quirks a brow, visibly confused by the sudden change in conversation, "Not really, other than how she suffered horribly from the plague. He never knew her, though; she died shortly after giving birth to his father. It's a wonder her baby survived."
"And what about Aro's brother, Talus?" Bella presses, "I know he was killed in a hunting accident, but when did that happen?"
"I believe I would have been twelve," Esme surmises, "Therefore, around twenty-six years ago. Of course, I didn't know your father at that time, but he was devastated. Although part of me wouldn't be surprised to learn if Aro were behind his death."
"But Talus was illegitimate," Bella notes, "He posed no threat."
"Much like Jane and you, Talus and Aro shared the same father, King David," Esme corrects, "He was a Volturi and therefore had a legal right to make a challenge for the throne."
"Then he was the Guardian," Bella says, although mostly to herself.
Esme eyes widen as she hears Bella's muttered words, "Pardon me?"
"Talus had to be the Guardian of your generation," Bella explains, "Furthermore, you would have seen the insignia on Aro had it been him. If it is passed through the Volturi line, then it had to have been Talus."
"Why is this suddenly of interest to you?" Esme asks, "No matter them bearing the insignia, those Guardians were never awakened. It meant nothing to them."
Other than their lives.
"Bella? You've gone pale, and you haven't touched your food. Are you all right?" Esme reaches out to touch Bella's cheek, but she draws back immediately.
"I am fine," Bella repeats, slightly annoyed. She's not sure whether it's the general agitation she feels that fuels the emotion or whether Esme is actually the cause.
"Something is off with you, and it's worrying me. Should I call the Ateara twins?" She continues.
"No, I do not need them," Bella insists, trying to calm her trembling voice.
"You're obviously not fine-,"
The clatter of Bella's spoon against the wooden tabletop resounds as she slams the eating utensil down on the surface, "Do you think because we've been reunited for a few weeks that you can seamlessly resume the role of my mother? I told you that I am okay, and it infuriates me that you will not take my word!"
Esme shrinks in her seat, and gently lays down her fork. In the silence of the dining hall, the clink of the utensil is almost as loud as Bella's previous action. Bella doesn't need to turn to know that all eyes in the room are on her. She would think that the thrumming in her ears originates from the mixture of embarrassment and anger coursing through her, but as Alec speaks within her mind, she knows this isn't the case.
We need to talk, is all he says.
He always seems to have impeccable timing.
"I-I'm sorry," Bella chokes out as she hurries to scamper away from the table, "I have to go."
The cool air doesn't serve to deter Bella's level of upset as she exits the cabin. Nonetheless, she takes a few gulps to try to lessen her agitation before addressing Alec.
It doesn't work.
"Now do you see?" she speaks aloud, "Do you see what your foolish actions could have done?"
Bella, calm down, he replies.
"No, I will not calm down," she grits, "I've done everything required of me. I have sacrificed so much. I asked you to do one thing Alec, and you went against me."
I'm sorry-,
"Sorry isn't good enough if it means my life is at risk," Bella barks, "We can't win this if we don't work together."
I know, I know that now. I underestimated our connection, and was desperate to return to my family. I'm so sorry for the danger I put us in. I'm giving you my word that I will be truthful with you from this moment on.
Bella sighs shakily, tired from how high-strung she'd been over the past couple of weeks, "You didn't even have the decency to contact me after you woke up."
I was ashamed, and truthfully, still am. You saved both of our lives, and I should have thanked you for that. But I'm seeing how you're reacting to finding out about our connection, and I can't let you continue on like this, Alec explains.
"I'm fine," Bella lies, even though it's of no use considering that Alec can feel her emotions.
Why haven't you told Edward?
"He's been busy," Bella excuses, "I don't want him to worry."
He doesn't need to worry, and neither should you. We are going to destroy Aro, and take back our lands. I promise you; Alec assures with fervor, we will not be dying.
"How can you be sure of that? You're not even here," Bella scoffs, "Don't make promises you can't keep."
Because Bella, Alec says, I'm bringing home an army.
~SWAN~
The room is dark and stuffy. The boarded window means that no air is permitted for ventilation, and there is no escape from the musky smell of stagnant water. Initially, the hand pressed to her face was meant to serve as a barrier between her nose and the smell, but it quickly becomes a dam to hold back her sobs. Her other hand reaches out in the darkness to touch one of the rusted, curved bars in front of her.
Isa's cage.
Jane has always felt sick at the mere sight of it, but now it pains her even more. Not only does it represent the many years her younger sister had been confined and treated like an animal, but it is also a symbol for all the horrors that had passed and for those yet to come. The very hands that had stroked the cage and detained the wails are the same ones that had plunged a knife into Isa's skin. Eyes that now stream tears are the same that had looked into her sister's face when she delivered her death sentence. And lastly, the lips that are currently smashed against her palm, her betraying lips, are accessories to the schemes of the wickedest man of the realms.
Aro Volturi had never been a father to Jane. In the years before he met Esme, she was merely the result of a short affair. When Esme showed her favor, he showed her indifference. Even when Isa was put in the cage rendering her virtually invisible, in some twisted way, he preferred his silver-haired daughter to his black-haired bastard.
It is only now that Isa is dead that he pays Jane any mind. It is not to fawn over her or shower her with his affections –Jane had never received the bounty of gifts that Isa had received over the years –it is to have her as an ally. As along as all the royals in the castle are complicit in his actions, Aro believes he has no worthy opposition. The people of Volturia have bent to his whim, so he has no fear of an uprising.
Or at least that's what he thinks.
Underestimating Jane has been one of Aro's largest mistakes. Not only has she been playing Aro's weaknesses against him in order to delay his timeline, but she has also been rallying support. With an extreme level of discreetness, she had contacted several lunella leaders to ensure their loyalty. The ten lunella coalitions, alongside a few trustworthy soldiers in the Volturian infantry, are hopefully enough to provide Isa with some assistance in the final battle.
Jane thinks about her sister every day. Her heart is heavy with not knowing what has gone on in Isa's life in the past half-year, and the fact that she can do nothing to contact her.
She has so many questions for her sibling; how did she get out of the Pylae? Was it difficult to find the Whitlocks? How had she infiltrated the Cullen Castle? What is she feeling now that she knows she's the savior of the realms? Does she miss Jane? How had she saved the Cullen heirs?
Aro had been furious when he learned that the Cullen heirs had not been killed on Cullen Isle. Though the assassination of the king and queen was a major feat, it is all for naught if their successors are alive and well. There had been a few weeks when he'd thought he'd succeeded in killing every Cullen. No one had heard of the Cullen children, and he didn't see how they could have escaped the destruction. In fact, Aro had brought out his best wine to celebrate the occasion. Nothing had ever tasted bitterer to Jane.
But the last week had brought news that the Cullenian guard had risen up with orders from their King. City by city they've begun to drive out the Iris and reclaim Cullenian land. It's driven Aro completely mad, and forced him to reconsider the timeline of his siege. Now that the army is retaliating and even gathering supporters from Forxx, he has to enlist and train more personnel. All the while, he rants about the luck of the heirs for having escaped. He assumes it is King Edward bringing together the troops and inciting the rebellion, but he's wrong. Jane has a feeling that it's her sister rallying the people with that fierce heart of hers.
That's the way Isa has always been. She's always been able to captivate the persons around her whether it is by her song or her mere presence. The warmth she exudes is awe-inspiring, and her strength unmatched. It is because of this that Jane never held ill feelings toward her. It would have been so easy for Jane to hate Isa –to have even taken joy in her imprisonment. Even now, that Jane is working alongside Aro, he still hasn't acknowledged her as a legitimate child. The birthright of the throne remains with Isa, whom Aro believes to be dead. Jane could have easily grown cold-hearted at all the times Aro refused to acknowledge her, but Isa had been the one to keep her grounded. Through her love and steadfast friendship, she had saved Jane from following in her father's footsteps.
This is why every now and then, when Aro and Sulpicia are asleep, she sneaks to the cage room. Seated in front of Isa's former enclosure, she allows herself to mourn her sister's presence. She allows herself to miss the late night talks and bellyaching laughter that they'd had, despite the bars that separated them. She cries for the unfairness of their situation, and the weight of the world that had been placed on their young shoulders.
But most of all she waits.
She waits for the day that she can see her father, the one who never claimed her, groveling before her as she strips him of his land. She anticipates the moment when she can look her pitiful excuse for a mother in the eyes and dole onto her every ounce of cruelness she'd unleashed on Isa and Jane. And lastly, she waits for Isa. She longs for the moment when she can use her hands to draw her sister into an embrace, rather than deliver a dagger to her back.
Terminology
Y'a-ma –Mom/Mommy [Forxian]
"It is an absolute human certainty that no one can know his own beauty or perceive a sense of his own worth until it has been reflected back to him in the mirror of another loving, caring human being." ~ John Joseph Powell
