Author's Note: This chapter is a bit more abstract than the others and it also contains some slight, slight elements of lime/lemon. And, because I'm a history major, I've decided to officially set this story in the 15th century (although I imagine time is rather arbitrary to ancient vampires ^_^). As always, I'd like to thank everyone who read/reviewed/favorited. Your support and encouragement is greatly appreciated.
If you have a spare moment, please leave a review. I'd love to hear from you. I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Stephenie Meyer's work.
Chapter Four
And as her lute doth live or die,
Led by her passion, so must I:
For when of pleasure she doth sing,
My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring,
But if she doth of sorrow speak,
E'en from my heart the strings do break.
From "When to Her Lute Corinna Sings" by Thomas Campion
There is rare merriment in the halls of Volturi Castle. Sulpicia sits upon the fringe of it, tuning the old lute in her hands. If it is music the ancients wish for, then music they shall have.
She had once held her talent aloof from their requests…but no more. After all, Didyme's lute serves no purpose lying cold and misused, locked up in her bedchamber.
But now, in one of the great halls, where half-finished murals adorn the newly plastered walls, Sulpicia takes up the instrument. The tension in the air is delectable and she smiles, knowing that she will be the one to break it, the one to violate that sacred trust of silence. Discreetly, she strokes the taut strings, her fingers culling silver notes that mingle with the laughter and patter of dancing feet.
His kisses are insistent. Separate melodies played upon their lust. His arms capture her waist and she is pulled flush against his hardness.
Sulpicia growls in surprise. "So is this what I am to you?" she accuses. "A whore?"
The floorboards spring with each careful step. Sulpicia plays a lively air and watches the ancients dancing. Marcus with Didyme. Caius with Athenodora. Aro with little Jane who can scarcely keep up with his jaunty gambols.
She is not sure what to make of the scene. Once upon a time, it would have appeared disgraceful to her. Vampires, ancients, no less, cavorting like humans. But Mistress Didyme insists upon the ritual. Otherwise, she proclaims, Volterra will indeed become a crypt for the dead.
When he does not answer her, she feels her fury mount.
"I'd rather die than be your whore," she swears…even as his feathery fingers seek the seam between her legs.
Aro glances up at her. There is pain in his eyes. "Are my attentions lacking?" he asks, his insecurity disguised by the sudden huskiness of his voice.
Sulpicia does not understand and her confusion causes her to drop her guard. She gasps as he thrusts inward.
Partners are exchanged now. Marcus with Athenodora. Caius with Jane. And Aro with his sister.
Sulpicia switches the air to a jig. The strings are suddenly sharp against her fingertips. Cutting. The music leaps forth only to be captured by her, the bleeding unicorn trapped between hounds and huntsmen.
She hears Didyme laughing. The sound reminds her of a swallow. High and fluting. Aro is smiling at his sister.
The scent of juniper wafts between them.
Words pass between them, obscured by gasps. Aro matches the rhythm with his own and for the first time, Sulpicia finds herself lost to the music and not in control of it.
Driven by curiosity, she presses her lips to his chest, sealing them neatly over a tell-tale scar.
Aro hisses.
She decides to play the saltarello. The dancers are forced to employ a leaping step. Aro is the most graceful, she notices. A vision of past splendor. An old god reborn to the new. His raven hair sweeps past his shoulders, masking, for a moment, his puckish grin.
He startles to Sulpicia with his ease and ceremony. Feeling like a spooked horse, she returns her gaze to the lute.
Her hands work furiously.
She is surprised when he moans her name. Why? She thinks. Why me? What could I possibly have to offer?
"Everything," he replies breathlessly.
The strings of the lute quiver rebelliously beneath her touch. The dancers are reaching a state of recognizable frenzy. The music is empty, she thinks forlornly, without a force to drive it.
And then, as the couples are moving into the half-turn, as the notes bleed from her fingers…the strings snap.
A discordant twang stains the undulating cadence of dance and revelry. The couples stop and Sulpicia feels that the spell has been broken.
Nothing remains.
He rests his head on her shoulders. Sulpicia watches him, prone and defeated. Uncommon tenderness swells within her.
Absentmindedly, she tangles her fingers in his hair.
They are wordless.
It is Didyme who sweeps over to Sulpicia with a maternal frown of concern. She takes the broken lute in her slender fingers and turns it upside down so that the strings dangle limply in the air.
"Really, Aro," she scolds her brother. "You must find her something better than this old thing. It isn't fair to her."
Marcus agrees with the ardor of a smitten lover. "We cannot expect to have dances without proper music," he says. "Poor Sulpicia has been forced to make do with so very little."
Aro studies them with faint amusement before pacing forward to take the lute from his sister. He inspects it thoroughly. Sulpicia watches as his hands breeze over it.
"Indeed," he says at length. "She makes the very best of music."
Author's Note: Sulpicia is one indecisive vampire. Unfortunately for her, Aro knows exactly what he wants. Thanks for reading!