the outtakes
cruelty
The infliction of cruelty with a good conscious is a delight to moralists. That is why they invented Hell.
- Bertand Russell
o.o.o
Her husband - her lover - her sire - her mate - her friend - her King -
These are the titles that Sulpicia has bequeathed unto Aro, with all the respect and promises they demanded, as true to her reality as is the breath in her lungs or the sight to her eyes. She adores him, ardent in her devotion -
But his is flirting with madness.
In this life, Sulpicia is not gifted with anything but keen skills of observation. She is a natural-born spy, quick to the shadows with her ear pressed to the ground, a relic of her human life where she could learn only by dubious means - where women were kept in the dark, unenlightened and dependent on fathers and then husbands. Something to be owned. Respect your betters, a mantra drilled into Sulpicia from the first moment awareness of the world tumbling outside of the windows in the sun-bleached home where she grew from girl to woman. Betters had always meant men, a fact that had been inescapable.
But then there had been Aro, a man of twenty-and-five who had been enchanted by her beauty after spotting her in the market place, who had sought her father for her hand, who had eyes of dark moss, a quick wit, and a sharp tongue - and who did not expect Sulpicia to lower herself to remain at his side. Aro was a scholar, a philosopher. He had strange ideas.
Sulpicia was destined to love him.
It had been a tragedy, then, when Aro had disappeared in Athens. Sulpicia spent months in mourning, crying beneath olive trees, pleading for Aphrodite to have mercy on her heart - and when Aro had returned, appearing in her bedroom one dark night, she had been so certain that the goddess had answered her reverent pleas. Aro had returned after years and although she was no longer a tender ten-and-seven, he did not seem to mind. Aro had stared at her from the shadowed corner where the candlelight did not reach and it did not seem to matter that now she was twenty-and-three.
Of course, it did not seem that the six years of his absence had touched upon Aro at all; he was still tall, less broad then other men, his palms still wide, and the twitching of his lips mercurial. But his eyes had changed. Red, like the fiery sun following Apollo into the night; red, like blood.
He had come back for her, though. He bit into her neck and held her through the change and lured humans to her waiting lips. And then he did the same for his darling sister Didyme, his childhood friend Marcus, his cousin Caius, and a distant relative of Sulpicia's, Athenodora. He was sire to them all, a family possessed by demons, three of them gifted with abilities beyond the imagination of humans. And he'd had his war, had gotten his power, had even seen to the siring of others - some who he kept close, some who he released. When he was done, it was likely that Aro was not only among the eldest vampires in the world, but also the vampire who had sired the most fledglings.
Now, though, even with his power firmly decided, perfectly balanced by three Kings and a burgeoning guard of enforcers, Sulpicia has begun to worry for Aro's sanity.
He wishes to kill Didyme - his sister - for the most minor of offenses. Didyme is too happy, too distracting, and Marcus is near to deciding to the leave the Volturi - to threaten the balance of power. And for that, Didyme would have to die - would have to be an example, a warning to any who would inspire similar crimes of desertion.
A decision like this is -
Aro is not that man. He had never been that man. It defies the very nature of who Aro had been as a human to even contemplate such a vicious action.
And yet, Sulpicia is observant. She sees the signs, the way Aro glares at his blood-kin, the flare of his nostrils in tightly-controlled anger - rage - betrayal -
If he does this, if he commits this cardinal sin - the senseless slaughter of his family - then Sulpicia knows he will spend eternity swirling down a drain of remorse and regret. Madness rots from the inside out, like a bad apple.
She has to do something to distract him. Sulpicia must defy the desire of her betters - of the man who has claimed her heart - if she wants to save him from himself. And isn't that always the way?
There was only one desire strong enough that could possibly distract him from this illogical vendetta against Didyme, against punishment for a crime not yet committed.
Was it possible?
o.o.o
o.o.o
Sulpicia remembers Mele as an angry creature quaking with loathing and vitriol, hissing like a viper and utterly dismissive of the invitation extended to her by the Volturi. Mele would not be ruled. She could, however, be persuaded.
When all has been stolen, it is very easy to be baited by the possibility of more - of better.
That is what Sulpicia does. She convinces Mele - in person, under a subterfuge and the ever-quickening threat of treason - that the pain-scarred vampire could be part of something, could share in something, could benefit from all the ties of the Volturi without having any true connection to them. Freedom, but with all the luxuries that came with mutual servitude.
What is a promise of all that in comparison to preserving her love's sanity?
Sulpicia would do much worse if she had to - and she did.
o.o.o
o.o.o
Picking the women is not any task that she relishes in. For as easy as it had been to sway Aro into tacit agreement - spare Didyme and create new life - Sulpicia had not anticipated how difficult the task would be.
Humans are so very fragile in comparison to vampires. The task of modulating his strength while caught in the throws of climax, in the throws of bloodlust, is gargantuan. Sulpicia closes her eyes and refuses to count how many human women had been pulverized by the mindless force of Aro's hips - willing to his touches, but too weak to endure them.
If vampires could feel sickness and nausea, then the afterimages burned into Sulpicia's retinas would turn her stomach. As it is, she has been made anew, stronger than before. More determined. Respect your betters now meant something else entirely.
Is it cruel to repeat the same sin over and over in a quest for something better? Cruel to commit the same garish crime just for the promise of salvation? Was Sulpicia destined to meet Hades in the lowest circle?
She did not know.
It did not matter.
She scans the crowd of the market place again, hidden under shadow and cloak to keep her glittering skin from the sun, and locates her next target. It was important that the women look like Sulpicia, too, and luckily for her, she had been rather plain in her human life - golden skin, even features, wide, dark eyes and equally dark hair. It is an assortment of physical features that are easy to happen upon anywhere in the world. She has seen herself in a thousand human women over the course of a thousand years.
It is not hard to find one that she is prepared to sacrifice, now.
o.o.o
o.o.o
She couldn't have imagined the birth - the sheer violence of it, the rip of blood-warmed skin beneath sharp teeth, the wrench of small hands clawing out of a stomach, mindless in the escape and unheeding of the screeches of the writhing woman who had been nothing more than an incubator -
The mother dies very quickly.
But the babe thrives, even after being imbued with Aro's gift courtesy Mele's mimicry and transfer of power.
Sulpicia cradles the child in her arms, all rabbit-quick heart and milky skin and Aro lurking in every inch of her. "Ari," she murmurs tenderly, stroking down the bubble of a soft cheek. The babe's eyes are mossy green, just as vibrant as Aro's had been.
She raises her eyes to her husband - her lover - her sire - her mate - her friend - her King -
He is saved - he will be saved.
Let the world be damned.
A/N: One outtake request fulfilled! There are a handful of others and they'll probably be about this length - some shorter, some longer - and from various characters and periods of time and they won't be chronological at all. Probably. Who the hell knows? Certainly not me - I say one thing, and then BOOM, something else tumbles out. I think I might be cursed? Whatever.
As always, be brutally honest. I can take it.
~cupcakeriot