One more chapter until Twilight canon era! There's no canon source to say when St. Marcus Day was established so I'm going with 999 AD just because it's 666 upside down, and as an 'angel number' it means new beginnings, which works for what's going on with the Volturi atm! I've face cast Ben Barnes as Marcus because the actor just doesn't do it for me.

Chapter Three

"Devil's Left Hand"

999 AD

Unlike Aro, Marcus had little use for being hailed a saint. It was, inevitably, decided that he should bear that particular title and thus, he had diligently worked to 'expel' vampire kind from the village of Volterra, Italy.

It was he and his brother's means of creating a safe haven for their coven. They'd been drawn to this region after defeating the Romanian's and had considered it something of a base for their operations. After the destruction of the Egyptian coven, it had been decided they would develop Volterra as the Volturi's base of operations and the capital city for the Vampire race.

So Marcus had done his part, with his wife Didyme a steadfast support by his side. He'd made a show of ridding the city of Vampires for the common folk and they'd believed the lie.

"Congratulations on your explosion from the city–" a dry, masculine voice called out as Marcus entered the room that would one day be the throne room where the Volturi triumvirate held court.

Marcus' step did not falter. He was used to the sudden, undetectable presence of Demons, after having had their reluctant acquaintance for the last two hundred years. They'd made a veritable nuisance of themselves since he and his brother's had defeated the Devil's favored Vampire, Vladimir, and popped in from time to time to share their criticisms.

And it was always criticism, especially with Abaddon.

Secretly, Marcus was glad that it was Abaddon, not Beelzebub, who'd visited. After that incident with the Devil's Right Hand after the fall of the Romanian coven, Marcus had no wish to be on the wrong side of Beelzebub's ire ever again. He may not survive it a second time.

"-shall I help you pack?" Abaddon finished as Marcus turned to face the tall, scrawny, severe-faced demon.

He sat upon Aro's throne scratching the neck of a stray cat in his lap, grinning wickedly down at the Vampire King.

This was the first time any of them had laid eyes on the Demon of Destruction in a few decades, and the first time one of them had visited Volterra. Establishing a home, perhaps, had drawn Abaddon to them this time.

Marcus gave the demon a flat, unimpressed look.

"To what do we owe the pleasure, Lord Abaddon?" Marcus asked with as much cordiality as he could muster. The Volturi had long since accepted that the Demon's were going to be a part of their lives, and that they should treat them as though they were passing royalty whenever they graced them with their presence.

Even if they had the bad grace not to announce themselves.

Abaddon shrugged, uncrossing his legs with a flourish that seemed like something Aro would delight in. Mimic, even. "I simply came to see the new castle in it's infancy!" Abaddon shooed the cat from his lap and stood, throwing his hands wide. "Such potential, here, but I am curious," the demon circled Marcus with his hands folded behind his back, "why this particular plot?"

Marcus hesitated. He might've been reading too far into Abaddon's words but… he seemed to be hinting at something. Marcus could feel it in his bones that there was something he did not know.

"Oh come now Marcus, just between us, why this spot?" The demon needled.

"Is there something wrong with this spot, Lord Abaddon?" Marcus could not stop himself from asking.

Abaddon's grin widened, eyes lit with mirth, and he moved to stand in the exact center of the room. He pointed to the floor.

In truth, they'd been drawn to this area–this land, in particular. They'd found themselves returning to it without realizing that they had returned until they were standing there. Right where Abaddon was.

"There's a Hell portal right here," Abaddon said and waved a flippant hand when Marcus opened his mouth to ask if that was going to become an issue for them, the last thing they wished was for hordes of demons to come through their castle at any given moment, "all access has been closed for almost seven hundred years. You should have nothing to worry about, at least not for now."

With no warning, Aro and Caius were in the throne room, standing on either side of Marcus. Marcus had known that they, along with every other vampire in the vicinity, had been listening in. They were only interrupting now because something interesting had been said.

Marcus watched Caius scowl. Such a temper, his youngest brother had.

"Seven hundred years is a relatively short time, by our standards. I suspect it is as the passing of days for one such as yourself," Aro began before Caius could spit whatever vitriolic statement came to mind, "I do have to wonder, however, if having a portal to Hell in our throne room will pose a problem for us in the future?"

Abaddon shrugged, once again, turning on his heel to observe the room. "I could not say. As previously mentioned, the portals have been closed for nearly a millennium now. I've never used this access point myself."

"What caused the portals to close?" Caius asked, scowl falling away, intrigued. Like Aro, Caius also had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and he'd taken to studying their Demonic acquaintances closely over the years.

Caius was convinced that, one day, they might become the enemy and thus he'd made it a personal mission to be prepared for that potential outcome.

"The answer depends on who you ask." Abaddon told them, looking up at the night sky through the glass ceiling above them. "Beelzebub believes it had something to do with the Nazarene. Mephistopheles believes the Morning Star is angry with us, those of us that are dwell topside at the moment–"

"You do not agree?" Aro asked, brow raised as he stepped forward and draped himself over his throne as if to reclaim it after it had been sullied by a demon.

"I agree with Beelzebub," Abaddon seemed distant as he watched the stars above, "shutting us out in anger is not Lucifer's modus operandi. That particular method is something The Father would do. As the son of God, I tend to believe the Nazarene might have closed the portals on his way out after he died."

Whenever one of the demons spoke of the Morning Star it was clear how deep their loyalty ran. Especially in the case of the three Demonic Lords that the Volturi had come to know. Their devotion to Lucifer was absolute, no matter how much time passed.

Mephistopheles spoke of Lucifer as if she were the greatest being to ever exist. His tone was always reverent, respectful, and admiring. He was like Aro, in a sense. Calculating and smooth talking. A quintessential politician.

Beelzebub was, quite clearly, Lucifer's right hand—he did and said nothing that he felt would betray or upset his Liege. He acted in her interests, always. Much like Marcus himself, and that was what made him weary of the hulking demon that had once used Marcus' life as a bargaining chip.

And if Beelzebub was the Devil's right hand, Abaddon was her left. An enforcer and a tactician–much like Caius was within the Volturi. They'd not had the opportunity to see his destructive capabilities in person, and they each hoped to never encounter it.

These were parallels that Marcus and his brothers had discussed at length.

"Seven hundred years and the portals are still closed." Aro edged, an obvious tactic to weasel more information out of the demon who seemed to be in a sharing mood.

It was difficult to get information out of them, most of the time. But each time they learned something new, the picture that was painted of the Devil became clearer.

Abaddon lowered his gaze to grin at them, a wicked upturn of only one side of his mouth. "As you said; a mere passing of days for us. We shall be reunited. Until then, we will continue her work on the earth. You know–" he laughed, a harsh dry sound that set Marcus on edge, "-spread chaos, bring a bit of Hell to the surface and keep things interesting for the Archangels."

After Abaddon had disappeared, the brothers sat down and decided that they would not move their castle. They'd been drawn to this plot for a reason, and should the portal reopen at any time they would seek audience with the Devil herself and strike some kind of bargain to limit the demons who could come through it.

1500 AD

"Get off of my throne, Lilith." Lucifer demanded with a long-suffering sigh as she stepped into her throne room. "I enjoy you but the more liberties you take the more likely it will be that you spend a few centuries in the upper circles being tortured with the plebians."

"Perish the thought," Lilith sighed, rising slowly from the throne, making a slow and seductive show of it, breasts on show for Lucifer's viewing pleasure. "Would it be impertinent to suggest a different punishment? Involving your chambers and some bindings of your choice?"

The Devil was unamused, and not the least bit interested in partaking in Lilith's, admittedly lovely, body to satisfy her voracious appetite for carnal pleasures.

She was growing tired of Lilith, of late. Especially as she'd become increasingly fond of thinking she was above her station. Draping herself over Lucifer's throne, for example, had become something as a habit of hers when she was attempting to initiate foreplay.

Lilith had been making it a habit to cross all of Lucifer's boundaries since the closing of the portals and Lucifer was one more incident away from enacting a true punishment.

"It is impertinent." Lucifer told her as she stepped past Lilith and ascended her dias, feeling the pull of annoyance form in her chest as the woman brushed her fingers over Lucifer's side while she passed.

Lucifer had to reign in the immediate urge to relieve Lilith of her arm for the offense. She had been sensitive to unwanted touch since the Fall, and Lilith knew that.

"Lucy—"

Stop calling me that, Lucifer thought, I can no longer stand that name passing through your lips.

"What news is there pertaining to my portals?"

Lilith's jaw clenched, but she seemed to realize that Lucifer was not interested in discussing personal business and bowed nonetheless.

"Belphegor has found one that has a weak seal. He believes, with time, he can have it opened."

"Good," was all Lucifer said before she waved a hand and forcibly expelled Lilith from the room, relishing in her shrieks of protest.

Now alone and allowed a certain level of vulnerability, Lucifer rested her head in her hands wearily.

It had been too long without word from the surface and with each passing century her worry grew more profound. She was stuck in Hell, her three favored Fallen residing topside without her. The only comfort she had in this situation was that each demonic soul that returned did so when they were expelled by one of the Archangels, and none of them had been any of her favorites, which meant that there was not a war she needed to be concerned about.

All in all, things had been rather peaceful since the portals had closed. Every now and then there would be a massive influx of mortal souls– some kind of human war– and she would have the opportunity to glimpse, through their memories of their life, one of her Fallen in action.

Beez was doing well, usually watching over Vladimir and stirring up chaos in Europe and Asia.

(Vladimir, who had indeed lost much in a territory dispute with a coven that was known as the Volturi–a group of vampires that interested Lucifer. She hoped they would survive long enough for her to meet them.)

Mephistopheles was busy spreading Lucifer's doctrine in an effort to beat back the expansion of The Almighty's Church. Progress was slow now that the Nazareen had given humanity a basis for their religion and, well, most humans were having a difficult time learning and experimenting with science and mathematics when their leadership was busy telling them everything was blasphemy or heresy and would earn them a place being tortured in Hell for all eternity.

Hell was being painted as a place of torment–that also grated on Lucifer's nerves.

Sure, the upper circles were exactly that, but the smarter a mortal is in life the lower the circle. The lower the circle, the better quality afterlife they should have. As it stood, now, with mortals rejecting knowledge outright, the upper circles would be overrun within the next few millennia with useless souls.

That was a headache for another time.

Abaddon ensured mayhem and destruction in whatever wars were going on, inserting himself in the creation of quite a few interesting new developments in mortal warfare. She was quite proud of the guillotine and the rack, she'd had one of each made for her throne room… had even had the opportunity to use them a few times.

She loved the way the rack made those who'd upset her scream as they were being pulled apart.

Lucifer felt Lilith's presence lingering at the entrance to the throne room and she contemplated wether she should introduce the bitch to the rack or not, because the soft 'fuck off' she'd given the woman hadn't been enough.

Chapters will get longer when we're in the present. I'm just establishing some background right now.