De Immortalitate – Immortality
Disclaimer: The characters of Twilight are owned by Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.
On December 17, 2010, Camilla10 - my fantastic prereader - and I met through our common passion for Twilight fanfics. We found each other through a couple of great fics (go read them!): "Love is always an option," by Serendipitous/Meilleur Café, and "The Singer and the Sorrow," by MG2112.
Without Camilla10's encouragement, without her enthusiasm and her passion, I would have never thought that I could try to write (and in English!).
Camilla is currently posting her new story "The Pilgrimage," with an original character, the fascinating vampire Adso, who will conquer your heart. Go enjoy it!
"The Pilgrimage" by Camilla: h t t p : / / twilighted. net/ viewstory. php? sid= 15919
Chapter 23 – Immortals
"Quod tu es ego fui, quod ego sum et tu eris."
"I was what you are, you'll be what I am."
(Fano inscription)
Antonius' POV
When Felix and I got back to Aro's domus, in the mind of the inhuman creature who was patrolling the atrium I saw the same image Felix had shown me in his thoughts: me, as a guard in their immortal army. My repulsion increased. It seemed that everyone in the domus was expecting that, at any moment, Aro would announce my–and Bella's–admission into his inner circle.
We'll leave, I silently vowed, thinking about Bella. Until the last moment of my existence, I'll ensure my freedom and yours.
Felix led me toward a secluded room and took his leave. If the domus had been used by humans, it would have been a bedroom. The cubiculum was windowless, and the only light was provided by a candle. The semidarkness made me recall the prison where Bella and I had been held, and worse, the sadness on her expression every time she had seen the last rays of daylight fading, knowing that at nighttime she wouldn't have been able to see me anymore. I clung to every memory I had of my beloved. It was as if I could still hear her voice: the words she had mumbled in her slumber, the whispers of her prayers.
"Pater Hemon..." I murmured. I had listened to her reciting that prayer so many times, that even without my supernatural memory I would have learned it by heart.
The moments when she prayed had been the ones when she appeared more at peace. Would she pray also...I couldn't complete my thought. A sob erupted as I considered that Bella was suffering the flames of her metamorphosis, burning in the same devastating fire which had taken my human life away. I couldn't do anything to ease her pain.
"Help her," I begged her God. "Bella told me that, according to her religion, there is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends. Bella gave everything to help me. Help her now, if You can!"
I went on my knees, as I had seen Bella doing when she prayed.
"Pater Hemon," I repeated. The words felt like a scorching fire on my lips. What kind of God accepted being called "Father" by His believers? Father...I had had a father, but then he had become my worst enemy. Could I hope that Bella's unknown God wasn't going to betray her and me? Our Father, Bella had said. According to her faith, was the tie among believers as strong as the one between brothers and sisters?
You who to me are father, mother, brother, and dear husband–the loving words that Andromache had spoken to her spouse Hector in Homer's Iliad came back to me.
Like Bella, Andromache had lost her parents, and Hector was the only family she had left. Could I hope to be the same for Bella? When I had read the Iliad, I had greatly admired Hector because of his courage. He had fought for his country, even when he already knew he was going to die and leave his wife unprotected.
"I won't ever choose anything over you," I vowed to Bella, although I didn't know where Aro had brought her, and she couldn't hear me. "I won't have anything but you to fight for, to die for...and to live for."
A new stream of thoughts reached me and made me bolt toward the door. In the mind I read, I saw Bella writhing in agony during her change, begging for help and crying her last tears. Then, I envisioned the moment when her heartbeat had become more and more frantic, approaching its death. Bella's face relaxed, and her lips parted, with a whisper on them: Antonius.
"Where is she?" I growled at Aro. The monster had just shown me his recent memories.
An intrigued smile stretched his lips. "She's arriving. Can't you detect her thoughts?"
I couldn't. I struggled to find any other trace of her upcoming arrival.
"Just like I suspected," Aro went on. "She's still able to shield our talents."
I paid him no further attention. A slim woman appeared in the corridor, led by a guard. Bella was walking toward us with her head bowed, her locks loosened on her shoulders; she was wearing a long, elegant tunic, partially covered by an embroidered cloak.
"Be careful," Aro muttered. "She's very calm, but newborns can be extremely volatile."
"Bella," I called quietly.
She raised her head. Gone were her tears; her skin was translucent, her features so fine that I could compare her only to the statues of the most beautiful goddesses.
But in the eyes of the silent goddess who was looking at me, I saw fear.
Bella wasn't calm, as Aro had assumed. She was terrified.
A traitorous thought made me shudder: What if the metamorphosis changed her to the point that she doesn't remember anything?
Bella averted her eyes from me and looked down.
Slowly, I took a step forward, and reached out my hand toward her. "Take it," I encouraged her.
At first she hesitated, but then she rested her fingers on my palm. Gone was the heat I had felt when I had touched her for the first time, after my own change.
"You are cold and stronger. Your skin is like marble," she had told me then.
She didn't seem inhuman to me now. Instead, she was soft and warm. As we had been when we were human, we were equals again.
"It's me," I told her quietly.
She looked at me. Her pupils shone like rubies. The flames of her transformation had burnt the chestnut brown of her eyes, but not the tenderness of her gaze.
"Antonius," she murmured, her voice lighter than a summer breeze.
I smiled at her. "Your Antonius."
Bella brought her free hand to her throat. "It burns," she murmured worriedly.
I gathered her in my arms. "I know, love, I know."
Aro was gloating. His thoughts told me that he was sure that we wouldn't resist the bloodlust. "Hunting is forbidden in Volterra," he informed us. "But I can have someone brought in."
Bella stiffened in my arms.
"No," I answered curtly. "We'll leave, if you don't mind."
"Still adamant in your decision?" Aro inquired.
I nodded.
Aro motioned to the guard, who handed him a little bag.
"A gift for you, Bella," he announced, retrieving a jewel from the bag. "As a reminder that you and Antonius will be always welcome in Volterra." He lifted a golden necklace–it resembled a snake, with a ruby marking its eyes–and placed it around Bella's neck.
Bella frowned; she seemed at unease with the gift, but I stopped her before she could speak. Refusing a present would have been an offense, although I also would have liked to reject Aro's jewel. The best way to keep Bella safe was by leaving as soon as we could.
"Thank you," I rushed to say. "Ave atque vale, Aro."
I held Bella's hand tighter. "We're going away, love," I murmured to her.
Finally, the hint of a smile grazed her lips.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
We left Volterra and didn't turn back. The thoughts of other vampires reached me as we walked through the atrium. The guards' musing weren't reassuring: they couldn't believe that we had refused Aro's offer; in their opinion, we wouldn't find any better opportunity in our existence. Felix's voice was among them. Through the images of his mind, I gathered that he was watching us from afar. I dismissed his thoughts, as well as the ones of the other monsters, determined to give Bella my full attention.
"You need to feed," I told her.
She looked at me, her eyes wide. "I can't." She raised her voice. "Antonius, help me. I don't want to hurt anyone."
"You won't," I assured her. "We'll go into the forest. There are animals there. I'll be at your side."
She could have run with me, but I asked if I could carry her in my arms, eager to feel that my beloved was still with me. We went back to the pond where I had seen that deer come to drink. One of them was approaching.
We stood downwind of the animal, too far from it to be seen. Nevertheless, it sensed the danger we posed and stopped in its tracks, ready to bolt away.
Bella and I stood and looked at it. She swallowed hard as the wind blew toward us, bringing the animal's scent closer. "How can we...?" she asked.
I caressed her lightly and left her side. "Let me do it for you."
The deer ran away, frantically dashing among the leaves and bushes, but I was faster. I trapped the prey in my grip, restraining it. Bella's gaze didn't leave me. She stared at me and the animal, her lips parted, taking deep breaths. With a fast motion, I sliced the deer's neck open. "Drink," I encouraged her.
She seemed unsure as she lowered her head toward the animal's open wound, but as she smelled the warm, thick blood, she began to suck it and swallow long gulps. I licked my lips at the thought that her mouth was where mine had been just a moment before, her tongue grazing the marks that my teeth had left.
I recalled the rite of the confarreatio, which I had seen in Rome. Patrician bride and bridegroom shared a panis farreus–a loaf of spelt–on their wedding, in front of two high priests and ten witnesses. We didn't have but the trees and the sky as witnesses, but I knew that my bond with Bella couldn't have been sealed better. No temple was needed for us. Solemn and generous, nature was offering us its gifts. We would accept them with respect and gratitude, taking only what we needed. We weren't going to abuse it, I swore to myself.
When Bella finished drinking, her cheeks appeared slightly flushed. It resembled the way she had blushed when she was still human, but I dismissed the thought. I didn't want to linger on what had been lost, but on what we still had. "Better?" I asked her softly.
She nodded. "Is it the way you've fed?"
"It is," I confirmed.
A light smile appeared on her lips. "You kept your promise."
I mirrored her smile. "I did, love."
She averted her eyes from me. "And Felix?"
I took both her hands in mine. "You won't have to see him anymore." She tilted up her head, startled. "I didn't harm him, Bella," I went on. "I recalled what you told me. If he still exists, it's because you taught me to not let hate overwhelm me."
"Thank God," she murmured, sighing in relief.
I cradled her face in my hands. "Thank you, my love," I whispered to her. "But thanks also to your God, because He brought you back to me."
Bella's eyes glistened. But she couldn't shed tears anymore. "God knows my heart. In my prayers, in front of Him, I chose you."
"Bella." I savored the sound of her name. "I also want to choose you in front of Him. I want to marry you according to our customs, but also according to your religion."
The joy I saw on her face didn't need words to be expressed. But Bella spoke the ones that I most desired to hear. "Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia." I considered what they meant: When-and where you are Gaius, I then-and-there am Gaia. She had just promised me that she would be where I was going to be.
My smile grew wider. I moved closer, until our foreheads touched. "Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius," I replied, our breath mingling as I brushed her lips with mine.
Eyes closed, we deepened our kiss. My hands roamed her body and she did the same on me, familiarizing ourselves with our new nature, but recognizing that, in our core, we still were the man and woman who had said "yes" to each other. We had lost our freedom, and then we had gained it back. While we had been robbed of our life as we had known it, we would find a way to make our new condition worth living. Per aspera ad astra, Virgil had said. Through hardships to the stars. Through every difficulty our hold on each other had proved to be permanent and unbreakable. When the forest ferns welcomed us, more splendid than the linen of a nuptial bed, I didn't doubt that Bella and I, even after we had experienced the longest darkness, would come forth to behold the stars.
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Author's Notes
About Hector and Andromache, Antonius recalls the sixth book of the Iliad by Homer.
A Roman wedding ceremony included the words Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia ("When-and where you are Gaius, I then-and-there am Gaia"–meaning "I will be where you will be"), spoken by the bride. The bridegroom replied Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius. The confarreatio was another way to celebrate wedding, especially among patricians.
Romanward's next installment is the Epilogue. I aim to post it in a few days.
An Italian Winter's next chapter is due on December 23 (www. fanfiction. net/s/7541183/1/An_Italian_Winter).
My biggest thanks to Camilla10, LJSummers, Duskwatcher2153, Marlena516, and Jmolly. Thanks to Project Team Beta.
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