Author's Note: I have decided to continue this story…it has more or less become a NaNoWriMo project of mine. ^_^ I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to read and review the first chapter. Your thoughtful feedback is highly appreciated.
I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Stephanie Meyer's work.
Chapter Two
She is thinking of him. Aro is concerned at first, for her thoughts are accompanied by memories of hate and promises of lust. Perhaps, just perhaps, Didyme is right. Sulpicia is not fit to be his queen…nor his mistress.
But then Aro is reminded of her music, of her melodies which are somehow both exotic and familiar. And he decides, he decides that he must have her.
They say nothing of the incident in the stairwell. He does not confront Sulpicia then, but lets her go, gently, oh so gently releasing her wrist with a smile of his own.
She knows something has happened, of course. He reads the confusion in her eyes as she passes him by and the watchful glances she offers whenever they are in the atrium together.
And yet, they speak nothing of it. Aro waits patiently. He sits on his throne between cheerful Marcus and sour Caius. He hunts with his guards as they compete for the biggest kill. And in his mind, he keeps all things, all thoughts of Sulpicia, locked carefully away.
Marcus is the first to notice.
His brother-in-law walks with him one morning on a terrace, their brilliance shielded from the sun by a network of trellises. The roses are in bloom and Aro wonders why the flower's perfume reminds him of blood. Fresh blood.
And he wishes, to himself, that he had been the one to turn Sulpicia.
Marcus slows his pace. "Brother," he begins, his tone calculated as always.
Aro stops to admire a rose reaching from its vine. He stretches his fingers towards the petals, but does not touch them. "You ought to bring flowers to Didyme," he says, recalling how much his sister loves the summer blossoms.
Marcus ignores the roses. "You must be careful…be careful with this Sulpicia."
The warning catches Aro unawares. He drops his hand to his side, studying the chaos of vines that embellish the stone trellis. "Oh?"
He is not accustomed to warnings. They are foreign things to him. A language unknown.
He looks at Marcus and with his eyes, tells him he has no use for caution.
Marcus, however, is brave. He has never had cause to fear his brother-in-law. "I do not speak for you," he continues, one hand raised in a gesture of peace. "It is this guard…this Sulpicia."
"What of her?" Aro remains casual. At last, he touches the stem of a rose and lets his flesh glide along the thorns. Their bite is so little…hardly noticeable.
"I think you ought to let her decide for herself."
"Pardon?" He pretends to be confused by Marcus's wisdom and yet, the meaning of his words is all too clear.
His brother thinks he is harrying Sulpicia. He isn't, of course. But if he was….if he was…
"I have every right to pursue her," Aro replies. He has never admitted to pursuing her and now the words deliver a heady rush.
He feels giddy, almost.
Yes, I am pursuing her. Is that a crime? How shall Hammurabi punish me? A heart for a heart? No…that's simply too sentimental!
Marcus sighs all of a sudden, his face tightening. "She is a dark woman," he says. "I have observed her interactions with the other guards. Jealous, she is very jealous. And violent. And, I daresay-
"Dangerous?" Aro delights in the word and the effect it has on Marcus.
His brother's brows knit together slightly. A bee swarms close to his shoulders, it's humming filling the silence between them.
Marcus is looking at him hard now, truly studying him.
Aro waits patiently.
Finally, his brother speaks. "Perhaps," he says slowly. "I am too late."
Indeed, Aro thinks, though he shall never say it out loud. Much to his relief, the matter is dropped and they pass the hour picking flowers for Didyme.
Sulpicia hunts with Demetri. Of all the members of the Volturi Guard, she finds the tracker the least objectionable. He possesses the fluid music of a dancer. Quiet. Lithe. Agile. And when he lunges and leaps for his prey, his breathing becomes a tarantella, wild and primal.
She enjoys her time away from the tower with him, though summer has come now and the sun, pregnant with heat and light, lingers long in the sky.
Sulpicia finds herself growing impatient. Vaguely, she becomes aware that she is waiting for something…something. The mystery of it makes her abandon madness for sense. She is no Seer, but she has noticed a subtle shift in the air around her. Voices which were mellow now ring with curiosity. Footsteps reverberate with meaning, with a symbolism she is helpless to identify.
Perhaps it has no meaning.
Or perhaps she is losing her music.
On midsummer's eve, she joins Demetri in the fields beyond Volterra. The night is starless, the clouds above ruby with rain. And as Sulpicia crouches amongst the high wheat, listening to the staccato heartbeat of a nearby shepherdess, she thinks of Aro.
Of late, her Master has begun to smell of roses. She carries his fragrance with her through memories. And memories become dreams.
The reveries are fleeting. Heartbeats of time. Flutters of thought.
She feels him moving inside her…
Sulpicia wishes she were mad.
Aro does not speak with her often now and she finds that she misses the sound of his voice.
She tries to liken it to some instrument…a harp perhaps?…but cannot. His voice is an obscure thing, hard to catch like a high, passing wind.
And there is no net to catch the wind.
But danger is afoot, in all it's carnal glory. Sulpicia knows she must not misplace her trust…especially in herself.
A late storm comes raging through the Tuscan countryside. Beside her, Demetri raises himself up on his haunches. He has seen the shepherdess fleeing through the fields, her shawl billowing like a lonely sail on a barren, black sea.
Sulpicia captures Demetri's gaze. But through his eyes, she sees another's.
Aro. Smiling at her, releasing her wrist. What has he seen? Or rather, what has he heard?
Without knowing it, she races Demetri for the kill, bending the tender wheat shafts beneath her feet but not breaking them. The shepherdess does not see her death coming, but she feels the hungry jaws close upon her neck, her ruptured jugular sending sweet succulence into Sulpicia's mouth.
Demetri comes up empty-handed--and furious.
She has not finished feeding when he grabs the back of her hood, pulling her away from the steaming body.
"The girl was mine!" he shouts and in his voice, Sulpicia detects notes of wounded pride. She has unknowingly bested him.
An apology rises to her lips, but she curses him instead.
"Damn your blood!"
Demetri is too civilized to rise to her rage. He turns to leave.
Sulpicia screams at him, teeth flashing. She is angry, but more than angry…insane.
Demetri does not realize this, but Jane does.
The witch-child had followed them from the tower. And now she is quick to separate the combatants, driving Demetri back with a warning and Sulpicia with a threat.
The Coliseum is spared a battle.
Sulpicia lies panting in the wheat, her ears filled with the sound of shafts snapping as Demetri stalks away into the thunder. It is little Jane who takes her hand and leads her to a narrow stream where they wash the last of the shepherdess's blood away.
Veins of lightning strike the ground. Rain thickens the sky.
"I am going to leave this place," Sulpicia says, her voice cracked and foreign.
Jane's face betrays no emotion. "Master Aro will not be pleased."
Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! If you have a spare moment, please leave a review. I'd absolutely love to hear from you.