Come What May

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Twilight, t is all the property of S.M…lucky girl!

Special thanks goes out to Jennifer V, for editing the original Unexpected awakenings. As this sequel takes off I will be uploading the chapters she has painstakingly repaired of all flaws, she is amazing!

(This chapter has not been beta'd…so don't judge me too harshly.)

Sorry for the delay, but my grandpa died and there was too much going on….

Chapter 9

Matthew's POV

Well that's just peachy now, isn't it? We just arrive and Emma goes and finds herself a mate. I am sure that mom and dad are just loving that. I can't help the chuckle that escapes my mouth earning me glares from numerous faces, not all of them are even faces I know.

I step back for a moment, giving everyone space, instead turning my eyes to try and focus on something that doesn't make me want to laugh hysterically like when I was little.

I turn instead to people watching. Dad looks agitated, his hands running through his hair over and over, mom looks serious, as if she is contemplating all of life's mysteries and Emma, who a moment ago seemed terrified now seems jubilant, almost like she's glowing from the inside out.

The emotions seem all over the place to the point that I imagine poor uncle Jasper must be getting whiplash.

As I gaze over the crowd I notice that I am not the only one standing away from the action. Masen seems unsure of what to do with himself so he has given Emma some space, but he seems unwilling, or perhaps unable to move too far away.

I move over next to him and bump his shoulder with mine. At first he seems startled and I realize he didn't even see me coming to his side because he is so attentive to what is happening with Emma. I smile warmly at him, trying to convey my support without words because I doubt that he feels like hearing anything else right now on top of all the chatter that's going on around us.

The corner of his mouth turns upwards a little and I know that he's happy I'm there, even if he isn't telling me so at the moment. I stand there a little bit longer hearing the elders and the parents discuss the next appropriate step before it dawns on me…. I will probably never get another chance better than this one to slip away and explore without having people around me.

As much as I like the idea of uncle Marcus being able to tell me when which building was erected, there is a thrill to be able to search and discover on my own, and I know that once the chaos has died down somewhat that I will most likely have company everywhere I go to ensure that I'm safe since we are so important to the new Volturi Peace movement.

I heed my own silent promptings and subtly walk away pretending to admire the keystones in the archways as I move further and further away from the courtyard and its many busy bodies. I can practically feel the history of this place as if it were a living, breathing entity, and it only takes a moment before feigned interest becomes more focused. The intricacies in the stone carvings…the dovetailed joists in the wooden beams…they all speak of bygone times when the quality of your work was equal to the pride you took in your craftsmanship.

The falsehood quickly gives way to intent study as I move further away from the court yard. I have become so engrossed in the texture and color of the mortar and the stony faced gargoyles that tower above us on the over cast day that I no longer worry about who may or may not be watching my comings and goings.

I pass through the guarded entrance, easily slipping by the two vampires who are intently trying to get the scoop on what is happening up by the palace, they don't even notice when I slip through the manned passageway that watches over the steel barred double gates, a post they had intently been working only moments before when we arrived.

I don't even hear much of their chatter as they speculate of what has happened as I continue to study the use of colors in the stonework and admire the turrets as I walk away towards the city. I cast my eyes far and wide, taking in the details, noting which sections have been poorly repaired, while others have been painstakingly restored with skill and great care. It is easy to see the difference in the sections near the palace that I am sure have been maintained with vampire skill as opposed to those that have had human assistance.

I subconsciously follow the buildings to the oldest sections looking for places that have gone to ruin in hopes that I may find a treasure to try and restore myself, a piece of the city that will be my home, brought back to glory with my own skills and hands.

I have not even noted that I have reached the outskirts of the far side of the city until I stop to run my hands over a piece of a wall that seems to have crumbled. The smell of earth and decay overrun almost everything, even the scent of people no longer exists here as the structures seem to have fallen in on themselves until they no longer seem habitable save for small rodents and homeless cats and dogs that have taken to the to seek shelter from the elements.

I follow the wall, notice the faded colors of the masonry and the way the elements have worn the stones down over what had to have been great lengths of time…these sections of walls seems older, even then the palace itself. I trail my fingers as gently as a butterfly's wing over the surface, not wanting to cause any damage to what little masonry has survived.

I tread gently, watching each pebble and blade of grass as I step along, descending into narrow pathways that twist and turn as they sink down into the ground away from the light. This seems to be designed differently than the rest of the city and I am intrigued at the idea of being the one to unearth its secrets.

As I pass by rotting doors set far back into the walls I wonder if these were quarters for guards in more ancient times. Perhaps these were the original buildings of the city, they seem to outdate everything else that stands to this day. However the idea of guard posts being out of the line of sight they would need to protect the city from intruders does not sit right and so I move on to the next theory.

I move down, now passing under decaying stone arches of other passageways as I move further downwards. The door frames are moldering and most don't even hold door upright any longer. I trace my fingers in the air, noting details left in the weathered wood and stone. From what my keen eyes can detect the stone and wood alike were carved and engraved with unfailing skill and details.

I glance behind myself and up ahead wondering if the window frames and ornamental decorations have the same intricate lines and grooves etched into them, only to note that there are no windows. Why wouldn't these descending shelters have windows to allow in the limited amount of light that would have reached down this far?

I slip into the next doorway, intent to explore the collapsing inner structures to be met with more surprise. The rooms are small, and even with the disintegration of the walls as I explore, it is obvious that these homes did not contain the traditional trappings of the time period they supposedly hailed from.

There was no kitchen area, no hearths or fireplace to provide a place for the previous tenants to warm themselves or to prepare a meal for themselves or their families. There was only a small room with another smaller room set off from the first, they were truly limited dwellings indeed, sparse and cold feeling save for the intricate work that seemed to have gone into the building of the walls and doorways. Who could have lived here?

I leave the small hovel and descend further, my eyes easily adjusting to the increasing darkness as I wind down wards until I am underground, having gone through endless tunnels and archways. I have slipped in and out of varying units to discover that while some had more than two rooms they all seem to have the same basic layout and limited space or lack of equipment that usually accompany every human dwelling that I have studied from books and video links to feed my fascination of all things ancient.

I continue on, hoping to find some sort of clue, wondering how far these structures continue on under the city of Volterra and am about to turn an go back to the palace in hopes of finding some reference to them in the vast library of books that I know is housed in the ancient castle when from the corner of my eyes I spot a frame that stands out from the rest, just around the next corner.

I step forward, my eyes lingering on the heavy paneling of the solid wooden door that sits snugly amidst the sturdy frame of flawlessly carved marble. My fingers reach forward on their own accord and trace delicately over the whorls and filigree, they are so smooth that from touch alone one would have assumed they were part of the stones original surface.

The door has impressive metal hinges with scalloped edges, reminiscent of those from medieval times, and they draw me closer. Opposite of the hinges is a brass handle and latch that lifts fluidly as I compress the trigger and the door swings inwardly revealing a darkened room filled with furniture fit for a king. I step into the space and feel as if I had been transported in time, seeing the space as I imagine it was originally meant to be used, a sitting space lined with great wooden shelves filled with books and carvings as well as other delicate treasure.

I move over towards the closest shelf and wonder for a moment how this one dwelling escaped the ravages of time unscathed when all of others have turned to ruin. Are the rest further on as pristine as this one? Perhaps the humidity or the lack of light has played a crucial part of preserving it?

I reach my hand up to touch a delicate carving placed on a shelf at the same level as my eye. It is of a wooden horse, and I believe out of birch as the color is so light. The horses mane is throw back, flaring out as the creature is reared back on its hind feet, balanced on tiny, delicate hooves. It seems ready to burst into action, each muscle bulging delicately beneath the smooth surface of its wooden skin.

My finger is just about to run down along the smooth surface of it's withers when a voice hisses out from behind me.

"Who are you, and what gives you the right to enter my home?"