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The fledgling family flees Volterra under the cover of night for Esmeralda's first hunting trip. The excitement in her thoughts encroaches upon her face, and she's incapable of stifling her grin as she and Carlisle sprint, hand in hand, towards the nearest forest. Aedwaerth follows at an appropriate distance, beyond any line of sight and tracking them through their thoughts. The mountainous terrain provides the trio endless enjoyment as they vault over scree, sprint up slopes and careen down cliffs. Carlisle's thoughts are chaotic with the emotion of the moment, but when he smells a sounder of wild boar, he sets this aside, and they slow to a stop to collect the scent. Aedwaerth catches up in mere moments, and with hunting skills refined over the centuries, points them in the right direction.
"Don't think, Esmeralda. Simply hunt." Aedwaerth's instruction doesn't endear Esme to the unappealing aroma, but she's willing to try to ensnare the 'blond god' at her side. Stifling his urge to laugh, Aedwaerth ruffles his friend's hair and gently shoves his head saying, "Go."
Carlisle watches with awe as the creature at his side gaps him, closing in fast on the scattering, squealing razorbacks. He's absolutely aroused at the sight of Esme ferociously feasting, one of her hands levering a tusk and the other braced against the ground. He slows to a crawl as he takes in her crouched posture, his breathing accelerating to match hers, speeding from the frenzy of the hunt. Under normal circumstances, two relatively unacquainted vampires in such close proximity would be attempting to assert dominance, territorial natures inciting violence. Esmeralda is typically timid around men given her experiences with James, and her human husband before that, but she can't find it in herself to fear Carlisle; she feels nothing but interest and adoration. So when he tenderly gathers a rivulet of blood, tracing the red tendril from her chin to her lower lip and grazing the pink fullness with the back of his fingers, she isn't afraid. And when he puts his bloody hand into his mouth, with his unblinking and ardent gaze focused on her, she responds as she should: a kiss, and a quickly escalating embrace. Aedwaerth makes himself scarce.
With little appetite and no real knowledge of the surrounding area, Aedwaerth finds himself wandering back within Voterra's walls, strolling leisurely through a stone courtyard. At its center is an intricate three-tiered fountain, water plinking and plopping from one level to the next. Sitting around the edge is a young couple, perhaps no more than fifteen years old, obviously together without their parents approval. Their bodies are as close as clothes allow; their thoughts only on one another and their clandestine tryst. Aedwaerth's thoughts are, by turns, amused and annoyed. Until a deep well of loneliness bubbles up from within him, his pain accentuated by the mundane memories of his life. When he compares the thoughts emanating from Carlisle and Esmeralda to his own, he finds himself bereft.
When he turns away from the lovers, he sees Aro approaching him from across the square. They make eye contact, and Aro gestures for him to follow. A hundred feet ahead of him, Aro enters a small chapel and disappears behind a wooden door. Aedwaerth follows behind, maintaining his human facade for the few townsfolk milling about at midnight. Upon entering the small church, he sits down on a pew in the back opposite Aro, and says, "I've come to a decision."
"As I knew you would. You've a history of impressive decisiveness." As Aro says this, he hands Aedwaerth a parcel, a black and purple garment bound by gut-string; Aro is careful to guard his thoughts on the object. Removing the ties and unfolding the cloth reveals a Volturi robe, darkest grey trimmed in purple with gold stitching. Despite the quality of the clothing, Aedwaerth feels like he is being mocked. Aro quickly deciphers his facial expression and says, "Feel free not to wear it, but it should grant you some measure of protection and respect while on your tasks should you run into any... interlopers. I told the seamstress to take certain liberties in its creation simply because of your heritage. It's not often we receive royal guests willing to freelance for us."
"Very well. Thank you." Aro nods and after a few moments of silence moves to leave.
"Aro. I have a request." Aro's thoughts are amused and anxious as he reseats. "When these tasks have been completed, in all likelihood, we will be leaving. If she's amenable, we'd like Esmeralda to come with us."
"I suspected as much. She seemed quite taken with Carlisle." His thoughts show a brief encounter with the woman in question after she'd shown them the library. What Aedwaerth sees doesn't surprise him, instead it affirms his instincts in asking Aro for her release. "Esmeralda came to us frightened and untamed. She made it to Volterra without exposing herself to the humans, but only just. After the newborn bloodlust subsided somewhat, we offered her a place amongst the guard. But Aedwaerth, you've seen her... she's no fighter. She's our welcoming committee because she looks harmless, and she has a talent for making people feel welcome."
"I noticed that. I felt immediately comfortable around her."
"Yes. It's useful, but completely unnecessary. Truthfully, I'd be happy to have you take her off our hands. She doesn't belong here."
Aro can't quite hide his thoughts from Aedwaerth. So he knows that Aro is only acquiescent in order to procure Aedwaerth's cooperation, but that is Aro's supreme talent, controlling a situation while appearing to concede. Centuries later, Aedwaerth will wonder whether Machiavelli found a way to study Aro's masterful manipulative talents.
"I'll leave tomorrow and send word of our return with the guard."
"Excellent. Oh, and Aedwaerth," Aro rises from the time-worn wood and forebodes in a conversational tone, "From my memory of your transformation, you have an unusually high tolerance for pain." Aedwaerth knows so and affirms this. "You're going to need it." He sees in Aro's mind a second-hand image, grainy like a human memory, of a skinny blond girl, eyes alight with anger, watching as grown human man convulses in the dirt. Just before exiting the building Aro tosses a coin purse filled to the brim at Aedwaerth and demands, "Bring me the witch twins."
After leaving word for Carlisle, Aedwaerth begins to run. At top speed he can track the geological trends by simply glancing over the terrain. He wouldn't classify it in such terms, but the Earth's internal activity is obvious as mountains turn to valleys, plains return to foothills. During the day, he's careful to monitor minds that migrate through his consciousness while prowling through farmsteads and hiding amidst hedgerows. Avoiding notice is something that Aedwaerth does with deadly precision. He reaches the Skagerrak coastline before a full day has passed despite moving through sunny, populated areas the majority of his trek. Even though he's immune to the temperature, Aedwaerth isn't looking forward to his swim across this North Sea offshoot. Once he exits the water, he'll be bothered by the shrinkage: his deerskin will be less than comfortable or flexible. On top of that misfortune, he must deal with underwater navigational issues, the transport of his meager belongings, and the unfavorable sinking tendency; the transformation leaves vampire flesh quite dense.
He plunges into the icy water with little fanfare and, careful to keep the stars visible under a few feet of water, he rockets through the sea. The swim is lonely, cold, quiet and wet, and it reminds him of the younger years that are not too far behind him. He thinks, This is what it was like to live as a murderer- like moving underwater. Whether the taste justified his actions is an altogether different proposition, but he knows now that he can never go back. For one, the few moments he spent among the Volturi minds was enough to emphasize the simple and profound contrasts between Carlisle and himself, and the rest of their species. In addition, Carlisle's beliefs and unflagging discipline are daily challenges and despite his young age, only a decade and half in his new life, he seems beyond temptation. The few times Aedwaerth almost slipped in their alternative diet, he saw his friend's fierce golden gaze in his mind's eye, and it was a steely deterrent; the thought of disappointing Carlisle was unacceptable, and stayed his murderous desires.
By the time he's come within sight of the far shore, his mind has wandered into warmer areas, considering Carlisle's recent romantic rendezvous'. Having never witnessed a vampire discovering his mate, Aedwaerth is fascinated by the process; the attraction was instantaneous, completely mutual, intense and transformative. He wonders if there might be an imperative biological mechanism that initiates the evolution that took place between Carlisle and Esme. They did seem to favor each other's scents... he thinks. He rises from the sea and jogs onto the shore under cover of a black night and he laughs as he considers what those two might have gotten into by the time he returns. Amorous youngsters.It hasn't escaped his thoughts that the only two creatures he cares for are quite literally within an enemy den. Aedwaerth is cautious of Aro regardless of the ease of their negotiations, or perhaps because of it.
Tonsberg, the squalid coastal city that Jane and Alec call home, is Aedwaerth's next destination. He chooses to hunt before his arrival, careful to maintain his strength and focus on such a mission; he finds an aged Walrus several miles down the coast, well beyond the bounds of its typical habitat. The countryside is swaddled in moonlight, and the cold, crisp air is exhilarating as it presses against his skin and dries his clothes. Before long, he is approaching the outskirts of the fishing town, which has grown in recent years to become a hub for land and sea-based merchants peddling their wares in western Scandinavia. As he draws closer, the smell of a particular vampire pervades his senses. It must be the adolescent's keeper, an Etruscan who is younger than Carlisle, nevertheless highly placed within the guard: Demetri.
After a few minutes of surreptitious searching, Aedwaerth simply hunkers down and waits, removing the mental blocks within his mind that filter the onslaught of thousands of voices. Vampires' thought patterns are starkly different from humans. They have a unique essence that makes them easily identifiable to him. Their thoughts tend to run in multiple streams of semi-related consciousness, a vastly expanded intellect in regards to information absorption and application. On top of that, the assimilation of their senses gives them away easily. When it comes to vampires, they are mentally inferior in only one way that Aedwaerth can define: creativity. He has a theory that sleeping enhances human creativity and intuition in a profound, and as yet, inexplicable way, but brains must do their best work snoozing and subconscious. So it doesn't take long to pick out Demetri's expansive ruminations once Aedwaerth has subjected himself to the trivial prattling of the Tonsberg townsfolk.
He approaches slowly, mostly confident that the Volturi robes that he has donned will illuminate his place and purpose. When Demetri, looking absolutely apathetic nestled within the crook of a high branch, spots him, he promptly hops down and asks, "You're my relief? It's about time they called me back from this windy hell."
"Yes." He can tell that Demetri is beyond anxious to return to Volterra, based on his thoughts of a buxom blonde remembered in countless compromising positions. "Any advice on handling these two?"
"Don't look either of the little devils in the eye." With that warning in place, he nods and begins to run in the direction of the sea, despite the approaching dawn.
Aedwaerth shouts over the growing, wind-blown distance, "Tell Aro I'll be about a week." Demetri acknowledges him with upraised hand, but doesn't slow down. By the time Aedwaerth has finished pondering the young vampire's abruptness, Demetri is out of sight.
He begins to search for the two troublemakers, sifting through minds looking for their likeness or the thought of a name. Walking through the town, he spreads his other senses out like the fishing nets so frequently used in the nearby harbor. Without a conscious decision, he's found himself among the dilapidated buildings at the dock and he detects two young people sleeping in a particularly rancid hovel some distance from the next nearest inhabitance, the physical structure of the building rapidly failing. Their dreams, harmless children's fantasy filled with one another, give them away as Aedwaerth's wards: Jane and Alec. He enters the building and is surprised to find the pair wrapped in beggar's rags, spooning below a wholly inadequate blanket, both wheezing in their sleep from bad health. Looking closely, Aedwaerth doesn't have to imagine their frail, emaciated forms shivering from the frigid temperatures. He's not sure what he expected to find upon his arrival, but this surely isn't it. All the information he'd gathered on the 'witch twins' led him to believe that the two humans were dangerous and delinquent mortals, feared by their own kind and coveted by his. To find them starving, homeless, probably orphaned, and most likely miserable is surprising and sad. Laying his plush Volturi robe over the thin unfortunates, he sets off to remedy their situation in what small way he can.
When the dawn breaks, overcast and grey as it is, so does the silence and stillness on the fisherman's docks. Leaving the depressing duo, he wanders down to the dock, intent on procuring some food though it's a task he doesn't relish. The various types of fish, in various states of decay, are testing his gag reflex with startling regularity. Quickly perusing a few local minds, he makes an informed purchase of boiled seafood and bread with beer, and begins to make his way back towards Jane and Alec. When his senses converge on the shanty where they were sleeping he hears scuffling feet, Norse insults are being bandied about and he smells human blood; it's clear by the accompanying mental images and thoughts that the two children are taking a beating for the cloak he lent. As quickly as is advisable, he makes his way to the rotting room, discovering four older boys, nearly men, pummeling the twins with feet and fists, while a young woman watches with merciless mirth.
Without announcing his presence, he places the food safely aside and proceeds to decimate the attacking vagrants. In a matter of moments there are innumerable broken bones, battered joints and flesh-deep bruises, and all five of the filth are being bodily tossed out into the morning, cold and mostly clothes-less. Aedwaerth is careful to maintain the illusion of humanity, but he is ruthless and efficient in their disposal. He may not have a direct hand in their demise, but he'll do nothing further to forestall their deaths. Predation has costs, and the vile creatures outside have paid in Aedwaerth's currency.
The blood warms the far corner of the reeking room where Jane and Alec are huddled, confused by both the battering they received and the one they witnessed. Jane's baleful glare is a facial fixation for her and it means little to Aedwaerth since he can hear the awe and gratitude rattling around in her skull. Alec's emotionless features match his thoughts, save his concern for his sister. Blood leaks from abrasions on their face and hands, and it's clear that they've sustained some injuries where their tattered rags cover skin, but the combination of a walrus feast and seeing these two poor children battered has eradicated his bloodlust.
"I believe I owe you an apology," he begins in Norse. He's careful to catalogue their reactions, both physical and mental, for signs of fear or faith since he'll need some semblance of cooperation from them over the next few days. It takes very little time to procure a positive reaction. From the girl, it's accelerated breathing and dilated pupils, followed by a soft sigh, accompanied by innocent attraction for the handsome hero in her thoughts. Alec has puffed his chest out, and is considering ways he can impress the fighter in front of him. "I'm sorry they attacked you for the cloak."
In a strangely calm tone, Alec is quick to interject, "If it weren't for that, it'd be something else. Those assholes are always after us. There's too many of them to... And they always catch us while we're sleeping." He's thinking that his and Jane's gifts are both easily overwhelmed by numbers, and that their own pain disrupts their abilities.
Aedwaerth doesn't respond directly, instead he gathers the warmed, wool Volturi robe from the soiled floor and cleans it somewhat before tossing it to them. Then he makes his way to the goatskin wrapped food and the container of dark, bitter beer and slowly approaches the skittish teenagers. "I brought you some food and drink." In an attempt to gain their trust, he holds the sustenance at arm's length and waits for them to take it from his hands, like a man attempting to tame two wolf cubs; it's become apparent in his mental perusal of these two gifted kids that they are hardened in a way most battle tested warriors never attain. Their peculiarities have alienated them from their parents, their peers, and almost everyone else. It seems that the only people who have any interest in them at all aren't even people, really.
It doesn't take a full breath for Jane to reach across the gap between them and snatch the food. They examine the fare, and tuck in heartily, scarfing solids down with minimal mastication, and pulling deeply from the tankard. Aedwaerth watches in fascination as the substantial amount of victuals he purchased dwindle and disappear in a matter of minutes. The entirety of their meal is spent shooting furtive glances at the door, their minds focused on stealth and haste. Their lives, he is discovering, are fraught with difficulty and pain. It's difficult for Aedwaerth to know if he is doing them a service by sealing their fate, but existence as an undead can't be much worse than what he's already witnessed.
After their feeding is finished, "Why are you helping us?" It's Jane that speaks this time, with genuine hope.
"I've been sent here to protect you, take you from this place to another where you'll be given a new life. Does that interest you?"
"Where will you take us?" Alec speaks with a spark of curiosity this time.
"Italia."
"Anywhere is better than here," Jane is adamant and Alec is nodding hard. "But why are you doing this?"
"Because you are special, are you not?" They exchange a glance, and Aedwaerth continues, "We are, all three of us, special in our own way. And I will show you my skills, if you show me yours."
"Who are you?" Apprehension comes over them, even at the friendly face of a benevolent patron.
"Do not fear, children. I am Aedwaerth of Caledonia, and I'm on your side. Now, who wants new clothes?"
Careful to keep the two orphans in his sight, Aedwaerth goes about making preparations for their journey, purchasing appropriate attire and provisions. He makes pleasant conversation with the twins, hoping to assuage their fears and calm them despite the total upheaval of their reality. Because Aedwaerth knows that what small part he plays in the last days of their lives will have lasting effects: on all three of them. Unfortunately, their lives have been laced with cruel severity, and their maladaptive behavior makes them less than ideal company. Aedwaerth spends much of that first day with them, and he learns about their perilous gifts.
Alec's abilities are different from his sister's in one fundamental and important way: they are not inherently evil. With direct eye contact or physical touch, he can inhibit the senses somewhat. Alec can render a full grown man completely comatose with a firm grip on the face. The effects are mostly diminished when used on Aedwaerth; he was surprised and somewhat delighted to experience what could only be described as lethargy or sleepiness when Alec targeted him at his behest. Jane's gift, if her nefarious talent can be termed in such a way, is a foil to her brother's ability. With a glance or touch, she can make humans experience unparalleled agony that leaves no lasting mark, save upon the psyche. Like Alec, her abilities are less effective against Aedwaerth's immortality, but that doesn't stop his skin from crawling when she looks in his direction.
With no real need to hide his nature from them, the journey home takes six days. It's impossible to run full speed with one child in his arms and the other clinging to his back, but it would take the better part of a month to reach Volterra on horseback, so he tolerates whoops of pure joy that accompany his acceleration with aplomb, and is thankful that he can give them some fun before their lives are transformed. He'd like to impart some wisdom to the twins, but his comments sound trite even to himself. He stifles their curiosity with looks as loaded as their own, while doing his best not to frighten them, but he's no real interest in playing vampire tutor to the children, so their time together is spent mostly in taciturn silence, while Aedwaerth focuses on his remaining task. He's so mired in his own distracted thoughts that he doesn't even wish the twins well after arriving at Volterra. He simply walks them into a holding room within the underground castle, informs a guard of his arrival and goes to find Carlisle with nary a glance or word in their direction. The Volturi cloak twitches in their grip, and the twins are cold despite the thick wool that covers them. They will never be warm again.
Aedwaerth finds his companion cuddled comfortably in the library, crammed in a plush armchair with Esmeralda in his lap. They are so engrossed in each other and their chosen reading material that they don't notice Aedwaerth's approach. He would typically grant Carlisle privacy in such an intimate moment, but he can't escape the magnetic attraction between them. The joy he experiences at witnessing their love and innocent affection is enough to temporarily eliminate all of his worries. They inhabit a bubble where chaste touches are prone to escalation, where whispered declarations are compulsory and emphatic, but Carlisle catches his scent before he can attempt to avoid them. When he opens his mouth to make a joke and diffuse the situation, Esme slams into his chest and hugs him. "Thank you," she says, but in her mind she's expressing her gratitude with impressive eloquence. Aedwaerth is delighted with her reaction, and it's further proof that she belongs with them rather than passing as a Volturi lackey.
Aedwaerth grins at Carlisle, who looks close to tears, and tightens his arms around his new sister, daughter, mother. He can feel the bond between them strengthen through their embrace, and the three of them experience of surge of hope for their future together despite the dark task ahead. With a gentle squeeze, Aedwaerth releases Esme from the embrace and grabs her hand, leading her over to an entranced Carlisle, who completes the circle by grasping their free hands. With a deep sigh, Aedwaerth broaches an uncomfortable topic in light of their emotional reunion. "You know what we must do," his eyes slide between them, narrowed and resolute.
"Burn them." Carlisle's voice resonates with anger, and his mate and friend are shocked by the stone-cold hardness of his eyes. "Remove those vermin from the earth."
"Yes." Aedwaerth is slightly saddened by the loss of innocence they share, but the three of them know it's the only way to procure some peace. "And I have a plan."
A/N: Thanks, as always, Stratan, my error eliminator. And thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. The response to the last chapter floored me. Rock on.