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The first time the king knew his son would become a skilled fighter was when he was thirteen years old. Without the boy's mother around, he'd been forced to pay more attention to Aedwaerth in his younger years.Despite his responsibilities as king, raising Aedwaerth was never a burden. It had been, and was ever becoming the greatest joy of his life; seeing the unnaturally tall, copper-top wrestle and roughhouse, run and swim with his friends, fight with his rivals and posture like a man was rewarding in a way he couldn't have envisioned before the birth of the caterwauling child. Though the king would never admit it, the look of the boy, so like his dead mother, played a great part in this. Whenever the king's glance lingered too long on the high cheekbones, the arrow-straight line of his nose, the full, almost girlish, pouty lips, and the green eyes, he'd find a way to excuse himself in order to grieve privately for his wife who left him behind.
His child's eyes always stuck him, ran him through with a specter's sword. He can remember the first time he made love to her as his wife, in all likelihood when Aedwaerth had been conceived. It was a blazing midday romp on a vista overlooking a large, unbroken tract of Caledonian forest. After their considerable passion had abated, he'd been entranced by the color of her eyes, their hue just like the verdant highway stretched out a thousand feet below them. He had spent all afternoon unable to look away from her beautiful gaze, all afternoon trying to make a baby, and they had.
But, like so many others before and after, the childbirth was brutal. In the end, it had been as simple and as complicated as one life exchanged for another. The king's wife and lover lay dead, and a mewling infant boy, with his mother's hair, face and eyes as a constant glaring reminder of his loss, rested in his arms, utterly reliant and helpless. He had done his best raising the boy, but feared he'd hardened him; robbed Aedwaerth of a carefree childhood. These thoughts plagued him until he noticed his son's unusual and tender interest in one of his best men's daughters. Aedwaerth favored a fair-skinned, dark-haired knockout that ran the boys her age ragged. The king couldn't help but chuckle at this, as his lovely wife possessed many of the same traits, and he knew exactly what this could mean for young Aedwaerth.
The king became aware of his son's inner warrior on a spring day when the boy was thirteen years old. While the youngsters sparred, the war-band's top lieutenants and teachers watched on, intent on imparting wisdom and skills to the next generation of Caledonian warriors. An older boy, on break from the practice beatings, began to antagonize and mildly assault Aedwaerth's crush; his adolescent hands wandering while whispering worldly words. Before her father couldinterrupt and punish the overeager teen, the king caught his son's wrathful green gaze, darkened beneath a furrowed brow and declared that the children be left fight their own battles. Across the yard, he heard his son's voice ring out, high and clear, laden with warning and war. The sixteen year old who'd had his hand pinching a pubescent ass-cheek, hardly took it seriously considering from whence it came.The boy pushed Aedwaerth's crush away, temporarily abandoning the pursuit of what he clearly saw as his, so that he could deal with the interruption that the king's son had caused. While he obviously did not expect much of a fight from Aedwaerth, as he got closer, it quickly became all too apparent that his actions will have consequences.
Aedwaerth was a head shorter, outweighed by forty pounds and lacked three years of experience in hand to hand combat. In the end, though, the men had to bodily remove Aedwaerth from atop the older boy, knuckles bloody and raw from pummeling his opponent. He'd been quick, merciless, and brutal in beating the boy who'd touched his beloved, and everyone in battle training attendance that day swore they'd never witnessed such a one sided whooping in their lives. The king had his suspicions before, but after that fateful fight, he possessed one more piece of knowledge about his unusually gifted child: Aedwaerth was dangerous when he had something to fight for.
Esmeralda, Carlisle, Aedwaerth and Felix leave Volterra without much fanfare. A simple farewell and good luck from Aro, and off they go, headed in the direction of James and Victoria's last known location. According to Aro, Kheti and his new coven have liberated a coastal estate in Norman France from wealthy aristocrats, and are using it as a combination slaughterhouse and antiquities dealership, amassing treasures and corpses in staggering amounts. Aedwaerth expects to retain the element of surprise, but he wants the other three members of his hunting party alert, and battle ready regardless. Therefore, they spend a slow few days traveling out from Tuscany, taking time each day for sparring and strategy. Since Carlisle and Aedwaerth are intimately familiar with each other's fighting styles, the foursome pair off naturally: Carlisle and Esme, Aedwaerth and Felix.
Felix's presence in the war-party is mandated by Aro, and it's clear by his utter silence that he'd rather be anywhere else. He's still quite sore over the public and humiliating beating he took at Aedwaerth's open palms, but since he has no choice in the matter, he's taken the stoic approach and focuses on his duty to the Volturi. Aedwaerth overhears this in Felix's mind, and puts together Aro's specific instructions to "make sure that, beyond any other outcome, Kheti becomes ash." Felix has always been a loyal soldier; in his human life, he was a member of the Byzantine army, the ancient Roman army's direct descendant. He'd reached the ripe age of twenty-five, quite old for a soldier of the times, and had attained accommodations and decorations aplenty; Felix was the highest ranking enlisted man out of nearly one hundred thousand soldiers scattered across the empire. These honors were not undeserved since, with a sword and shield, the man commanded murder.
In the year 917AD, after the Byzantine army's absolute destruction at the hands of Bulgarians in the Battle of Achelous, Felix staggered back home to Tuscany, one of only a few survivors of what had been a fifty-thousand strong force. Felix retired and was living a life without the constant clang of metal and might when Aro came across the warrior and changed him. Felix recognizes the irony of eternity as a soldier when his last human vocation was a butcher, and he'd beg off his duties after seven hundred years of service but for the blood. Even Aro knows that the true commander-in-chief of the Volturi is a viscous red liquid. He's thinking about all this when Aedwaerth says to him, "Look sharp, we need to spar."
"Like Hell." He's of no mind to be beaten again.
"If it makes you feel any better, you lasted longer than most pairs would have." Aedwaerth is chuckling quietly at the mountainous man, doing what he can to gingerly goad him into some friendly play-fighting.
Felix regards him with an incredulous look and, properly cowed, stands to face Aedwaerth saying, "If you slap me, even once, we're done."
"Fair enough." As they begin to test one another skills, the crack of boulders clacking together resounds throughout the arboreal forest. Carlisle and Esme are at it, too, though their testing often leads to tickling and tender digression. Since Felix isn't ticklish, Aedwaerth starts to offer advice, which Felix graciously accepts; he recognizes Aedwaerth, subconsciously, as his superior officer and unthinkingly falls in step with the marching orders. "Don't leave your feet until you must," he warns. "There are nerve buttons here, here and here," he gestures. "Pick apart their defenses with patience and observation. See the patterns," he advises.
After a few hours of half-pulled punches, Felix and Aedwaerth are fast friends, sharing war stories and back-slapping like two long-lost legionnaires. When Carlisle and Esme return from a quick hunt, they are surprised to find the pair laughing and cavorting like childhood acquaintances. Aedwaerth just winks at them, and gestures in the direction they need to be headed, saying, "Let's keep moving." He knows morale will deplete daily as they mull over the upcoming conflict, so he's eager despite their dual needs for caution and prudence. As they run in the direction of their adversaries, Felix tells the story of his army's last humiliation.
"The Bulgarians took a center-yield tactic. They placed the dregs and the mercenaries at the frontline in the middle formation so that when we attacked, the center would crack and falter, then fall back in on itself." For a big man, Felix is fairly demonstrative, all flailing hands and friendly smiles. "Convenient, since they'd placed their fiercest men on the flanking left wing. When we chased their center, the lines came apart and our army was practically formless. Just then they hit us. Cavalry came in on our left from an elevated position. Their left flank hit us dead on the opposite side, and that was it. Total chaos."
Aedwaerth sees something interesting in his mind and prods for an answer, "What was that? The white horse?"
"Eh? Oh yes, mind reader. I suppose you saw that. Not that I'm shy about telling it, but that particular beast belonged to Tsar Simeon, ruler of the first Bulgarian Empire. I killed his prized white stallion, nearly slew him, too. Ugly bastard."
Even Esme is curious at this point. She inquires, "How did you get out with your life?"
"With great difficulty, mademoiselle. A group of thirty fought our way through to the sea, killed and cleaved until nightfall. We hid and ran and fought for the better part of a week before we found a boat that we could steal and handle ourselves, though at that point there, were only five of us left. Sailed twelve days and nights along the Black Sea coast before we found shelter. In the end, over forty-thousand Byzantine soldiers never came home." It's clear that he's done speaking on the subject.
They develop a routine of sorts, which they follow with military precision over their four day journey to the ocean. They spar twice a day, review the strategy behind their assault after each practice session, and hunt frequently in order to maintain their strength. As Aedwaerth leads them toward Normandy, he catches pieces of Esmeralda's sordid story. There's no specific trigger for it, but the memories of her time with James and Victoria keeps cropping up. Frightening flashes of violence fill her head full of fear and make her flinch. It's no surprise to Aedwaerth, considering the things he sees, that she's afraid; James and Victoria are villains, vile and loathsome creatures who lack self-control and empathy of any kind. He assumes this is true of Kheti, as well, but the ancient Egyptian doesn't reside in Esme's memories. The morning of their imminent arrival, Esmeralda is dwelling on the memory that riles her, that empowers her mind and body with hate and revulsion for those freaks.
Esme, like Aedwaerth's lost love, is blessed and cursed with a beautiful face and fine figure. Unfortunately, her comely looks caught James' abhorrent attentions. From what Aedwaerth can reconstruct, since she isn't exactly discussing the subject, is that James abducted her at the site of her attempted suicide. Her human memories are hazy, but the grief from the loss of a third infant child had become unbearable. Her casually abusive husband, an archer for the French army, was away fighting in the Hundred Years' War, and couldn't console her even if he were so inclined. She'd had no family, few friends and naught but a broken heart to keep her company. James found Esmeralda in the forest, over 100 feet into the upper branches of a tree, attempting to end her life. He'd coaxed her from the death pedestal with soft words and sweet sentiment, and Esme fell for the ruse in the emotion of the moment. Falling asleep in the arms of a murderer is the last pleasant human memory she retains, but it's tainted by the traumatic events that follow. She was raped, beaten and bled for days before she starts to die of hunger, thirst and internal injury.
Her strongest memory, one she's shared with Carlisle, is stuck on a loop in her thoughts. She remembers, with unusual clarity, James' final sadistic act; he taunts her with his wicked words, "Suicides go to Hell. Did you know? Personally, I'm not sure I believe in any of that shit, anymore." His gleaming grin is almost enough to distract from the lank, limp blond hair, grown from a permanently receded hairline, that's draping over his shoulder as he speaks.
It sounds, even in her memory, like she's talking underwater, "You are a devil. I hope you die." Her defiance impresses Aedwaerth, especially since at that moment, she was frightened and within an inch of death.
James smile sucks the breath out of her, but his words horrify her, haunt her to this day, "Yes, I am. And now it's your turn to burn. Welcome to Hell." He's careful when he bites her right wrist, sure to secrete as little venom as possible in order to prolong the progress of her transformation. Then he leaves her screaming and suffering in the depths of an old growth forest, her heart full of fear.
Aedwaerth clears his throat and tries to catch Esme's eye. When she avoids his subtle attempts at gaining her attention, he simply says her name and tells her, "We must talk once more before we fight." Though he's speaking in Esme's direction and has his eyes on her, it's clear that he intends to include the whole hunting party. When they slow to a stop, it's within sight of the coast, and the four of them can smell the slight salt and feel it tinge the softer scents of forest and earth.
"What is it, fearless leader?" Felix is quick to tease Aedwaerth for his intensity.
"Esme, you may not like this, but you will listen and obey, anyway. Do not leave Carlisle's side." When he hears her start to argue, he interrupts and persists, "If not for your sake, do it for mine. And Carlisle's. Our skills will suffer if we're afraid for you." And he smiles softly at her as she silently acquiesces, while Carlisle whispers "Thank you" into the silken strands covering her ear. "Remember what we spoke about these last few days right now. Go over these things in your mind." Aedwaerth listens to them do just that for only moments before continuing, "We're ready." They move quickly toward the semi-distant shoreline, leaping and scrambling over the low lying scrub foliage, until their bare feet find the sand. Each step toward the water feels like the chord preceding the resolution, each stride feels further from a finale than the first. Before they sink below the surface of the briny waves, he leaves them with one last piece of advice, a dark doxology that sends a shiver down their spine, "Do not speak, do not blink. Stare your enemy in the eyes and think of ways to kill him. Then make it so." They swim out beyond the wavebreak and allow their stone bodies to sink to the bottom. Moving east toward their target, parallel to the shore, Aedwaerth marks the miles with infrequent peeks above the dark water.
Part of his superlative strategic skills are the unintentionally creative tactics he uses. After swimming through the waters between Denmark and Norway on his trek toward the twins, he'd realized that the liquid completely concealed the scent of the air beyond it. If he inhaled the water, unpleasant but possible, he could catch the scents of a variety of underwater unknowns, but nothing beyond the transitional boundary between sky and sea. This is the method that Aedwaerth and his companions use to come as close as possible to their enemy without detection. Under the protective scent-shield of the North Atlantic Ocean, they've come within a scant quarter-mile of the enemy beachfront estate. Aedwaerth sits on the ocean floor, every sense shut down save for his telepathy, sifting through the minds of the three vampires lounging about in the mansion built above the beach. Their presence pleases him, and after several minutes of surveillance he's sure they're unaware of the danger lurking in the murky waters beyond their backdoor. His simple plan is playing out without a hitch.
Like most pivotal moments in his life, Aedwaerth, in a moment of introspection, finds a contrast between himself and his surroundings. Despite his mental preparation for the potential fight of his life, he feels a strange ambivalence amidst the muffled, rhythmic whoosh of the waves overhead and eerie stillness of the water encasing him. Even Esme's mind is focused and free of fear, composed and collected; Aedwaerth can almost taste her faith in Carlisle, who is confident, calm and constantly by her side. Felix is businesslike, set on the task ahead of him, on bringing his strength to bear free of emotion. But Aedwaerth is conflicted, decidedly unsettled for a veteran; aside from being unable to repress his anger at being forced into fighting, he's weary and worn out from it. He'd been sure this part of his life was behind him, that he'd buried the beast within him bent on destruction, but he can feel his insides fight, like an enraged animal batting at the bars of his cage.
What he wants in this moment is impossible. Aedwaerth wishes himself and his family free of threats and beyond the need for violence, but he knows that the door to the future he desires is guarded by three treacherous savages. He must end them in order to move forward; thinking he's sure of what he must do, he motions them forward. Gradually and silently, they make their way into shallower water before reaching the beach.
Careful to remain as silent as possible, they climb the gentle hill that leads to the back of the sprawling two-story chateau, perched on all four limbs like half-arachnids. When they reach the structure, they press themselves to the side of the building and proceed according to plan. Using prearranged hand signals, Aedwaerth places the location of their adversaries: Kheti is flipping pages on the first floor, while James and Victoria have sex on the second. Felix thinks, while grinning ear-to-ear, at Aedwaerth, Talk about being caught with your pants down. He acknowledges Felix by mouthing, Kheti is mine.
They break formation in a flurry of motion and noise, which alerts all vampires to an impending attack. Aedwaerth can hear the surprise in their minds at something supernatural sneaking so close without their knowledge. Meanwhile, Carlisle, Esme and Felix vault themselves into several second story windows, just as Aedwaerth annihilates the exterior wall that separates him from his Egyptian foe. Kheti, all intense snarl and surprise, is frozen in shock at the sight of soaking-wet Aedwaerth crashing through his house. Wasting no time on words or warning, he attacks without hesitation.
Since it's hard to fight without a head, Aedwaerth is careful to protect his neck by holding his hands up; it may look like he's fist fighting, but it's a preventative measure meant to curtail the possibility of decapitation. It's a technique which Kheti doesn't employ, much to his detriment. Kheti is so surprised by the sudden onslaught of a stronger, faster vampire bent on righteous retribution, that he has little time to mount any defense before Aedwaerth is on him. Aedwaerth catches him, hands around a skinny, pallid neck, and pushes him past and through the wall at his back and into the open air.
He'd expected more of a fight from the world-weary ancient, but Kheti, outmatched in size and strength, is scrabbling ineffectually as Aedwaerth presses him into immobility. Kheti's knees and feet catch Aedwaerth in the torso and thighs, even once in the groin, but he doesn't let go, riding the blows out above a bucking and panicked vampire. Moving a knee to Kheti's chest, Aedwaerth removes one hand from his neck and pummels his head, feeling stone skin splinter and crack with the force of his blow. Summoning the skills of his youth, Aedwaerth continues to pound away at a specific spot, and after a few blows, he feels the telltale crunch of the skull give way. Kheti's mental agony and anger momentarily vanish as his consciousness flickers and his brain sends a signal to his spine to seize. His enemy prone and defenseless below him, Aedwaerth removes his wrecked head, and the sickening pop of his spine as it is severed turns his stomach. The easy victory feels all wrong.
Not wasting a moment on contemplation, Aedwaerth grabs Kheti's disembodied head and begins to make sense of the chaos on the second floor. Rather than arrive by stairs, Aedwaerth simply measures his strength and jumps through the ceiling above him, landing gracefully beside the man shaped hole he's made. Looking and listening, he makes his way toward the sounds of conflict. When he breaches the master bedroom wall, he finds the five vampires at a standstill, threats and invective resound as Aedwaerth examines the hostage situation. Felix holds Victoria's head between his massive hands, hovering her above the ground, and pressing his teeth to her neck. James has Carlisle in a similar position, and suddenly Aedwaerth's mind is balanced on a knife's edge, restraint on one side, ruin on the other. Esme is struggling with a similar sentiment, all but hysterical with the threat to her mate.
"Stop. Right now." Aedwaerth's voice is cold steel slid between their ribs, and they obey. "Felix, put her down and remove your teeth." When he hesitates, Aedwaerth orders, "Now!" With Victoria's feet firmly on the ground and the teeth marks on her neck quickly receding, Aedwaerth turns to James, who recognizes him immediately. He says softly, "James. Do you want to live beyond this day?" Not waiting to hear a verbalized affirmative, he assures the skittish man, "If you do not put him down, you will surely die by my hand." He holds up Kheti's head, "Do you doubt that I can do it? Let him go, and you will walk out of here alive. You have my word."
"Felix, let the woman go." He does so reluctantly, and they watch as the red-headed demon flees the fight, naked and whimpering. James is distraught and momentarily distracted by her departure, Aedwaerth takes advantage by hurtling Kheti's severed head at him at several hundred miles per hour. The projectile strikes James in the side of his head, and the impact dislodges his hold on Carlisle, who scrambles away as Aedwaerth rushes forward. James is attempting to jump out the window after Victoria when Aedwaerth catches him by an ankle and yanks him back into the room. The position is unfortunately intimate, but Aedwaerth pins him to the floor on his stomach and wraps a rippling arm around James' neck. His mouth is right by James' ear when he says, "Seems young Victoria doesn't have much consideration for you. Maybe you're a terrible lover. I could find out." It's an empty threat, but James doesn't know it, and a shot of horror slithers through his mind. When Aedwaerth rams a knee into his nethers, all of his thoughts focus on the ball-splitting pain. "It'd be no less than you deserve, you miserable fuck. I want you to apologize to Esmeralda. I'll know if you're lying." James does so, the picture of sweet sincerity, though his mind is full of vitriol and venom. Aedwaerth gestures toward Felix and says, "Hold him." While Felix holds his arms and legs immobile, Aedwaerth stands him up and brings James' eyes level with his own, "If I ever see you again, I will kill you and your mate. Never return to England, and do not ever come back here. If you catch wind of our whereabouts, run in the opposite direction. If I smell your foul stench ever again, I will hunt you and torture you before I burn you. Do you understand?" Aedwaerth is quite sure that he does, that he's recognized this threat as a permanent promise. "Now, something to remember me by." He glances at Felix, careful to ignore the startled looks on Carlisle and Esme's faces, and says, "Hold him fast."
Aedwaerth presses a finger into the corner of James' left eye, pushing past several fibrous membranes and into the space behind. With a come-hither crook of his finger, he jerks his hand out from inside James, pulling apart the vampire's vision. As James' wails in pain and fear, Aedwaerth obliterates the white eye in his hand, abhorring the feel of venom soaked tissue crushed into sludge. He informs, "If you ever see me again, it will be the last thing you see." The promise is enough to send him staggering out the second story window, sprinting on unsteady legs after his traitorous mate. Before he bounds out of sight and beyond Aedwaerth's telepathic abilities, he turns a baleful eye upon his former home and his thoughts promise vengeance.
Aedwaerth has the sudden urge to bathe in the ocean, but holds fast when he hears the thoughts around him. Felix is the first to speak up, "You let them go."
"You listened," Aedwaerth accuses.
"I won't be able to avoid Aro. He'll know that the lawbreakers are still alive and free."
"Then go after them yourself. Aro knows that I am not a guard member. His lap-dogs can take care of those two at any time he wishes. But I'm done. No more contract killing. Kheti was Aro's primary target, regardless." He walks over to the head and hands it to Felix. "Take this to your master. Give him my regards." With that, Felix is dismissed, and he works his way through the rubble as he bids them farewell.
When the three of them are alone, Aedwaerth turns toward Carlisle and encompasses him in a hug. Carlisle stiffens at the embrace, and then clings tightly in the relief of the moment. "I'll want to know what precipitated my arrival, later. But right now, I'm too glad for your life, friend."
"Aedwaerth." Esmeralda's soft voice is accompanied by her hand on his forearm, and her touch feels completely unfamiliar, but pleasant. He imagines it's a motherly gesture, meant to comfort and connect in an innocent way. "Thank you for saving Carlisle. I cannot... thank you enough." Aedwaerth places his rattled companion into the arms of his lover, feeling intensely protective of the two young vampires by his side.
"No thanks necessary. We won't see James or Victoria again," he tells them. "And unless they have some skills in avoidance, I think the Volturi will probably see them punished before too long." He breathes in deep, as if the oxygen can purge the violence from his mind. "I see them now for what they are: slaves to the blood, like I once was. Let us be satisfied, and think of this no more. Our troubles here are ended."
They realize the truth of his words gradually, as their experience meshes with reality. The awakening sparks joy and hope within them, and they come to terms with their freedom from fear and fighting. Smiles split their faces and laughter erupts, a physical manifestation of their effervescent happiness. Night falls on the family of three as they enjoy the ocean, trouncing around in the surf, laughing and loving life. When the witching hour arrives, they prepare the beachfront property for burning, and then light it afire under the watchful eye of a nearly full moon. As the flames burn high into the night, Aedwaerth begins to ponder their future, what they will do and where they will go, etc. All of the possibilities are pleasant, so he poses the question to Carlisle and Esme, who are necking enthusiastically. When they catch their breath, Esme is quick to answer, "I've always wanted to see Paris."
Carlisle and Aedwaerth, quick to appease the beautiful woman who's brought love and light into their lives, agree without hesitation. They spend a little over a year traveling throughout the beautiful French countryside with Esme as their guide as she learns to manage her bloodlust. They are moving through eastern France in their final approach toward Paris when Aedwaerth accidentally alters history. Drawn in by her unusual mind, he meets a fourteen year old girl named Jeanne d'Arc.
A/N: Special thanks to Stratan and Jenn0179, who prepared this chapter for mass consumption. If you're looking for a sweet new story, you can read anything that Jenny has written and you'll enjoy it. While You Were Gone is especially cool.
I also wanted to thank Sebastien Robichaud for recommending this story and all the new readers who came at his behest. Rock on.
Did anyone catch the homage to my favorite bald man?