CHARITY
"From this fundamental law of nature, by which men are commanded to endeavour peace, is derived this second law: that a man be willing, when others are so too, as far forth as for peace and defence of himself he shall think it necessary, to lay down this right to all things; and be contented with so much liberty against other men as he would allow other men against himself. For as long as every man holdeth this right, of doing anything he liketh; so long are all men in the condition of war."
—Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan
—
AUGUST 10TH 2039
VOLTERRA, ITALY
Caius had first proposed that they move their archives to a larger area of their residence in Volterra over seventy years ago. Aro had chuckled and begun an anecdote from millennia before. Several minutes had passed and his brother had sat by, listening irritably, and eventually Aro had finished with the contemporary phrase: "'It is the part of a wise man to keep himself today for tomorrow, and not venture all his eggs in one basket.'"
This had prompted one of Marcus' rare emergences of personality. Modernity fascinated him the same way it frustrated Caius. Aro had grinned as his brothers bickered and the rest of the early morning of the fifteenth of November, nineteen-sixty seven, had progressed delightfully.
Over the years, they had spread their resources about. A brand new section of earth beneath the Russian Empire, a far older, more unseen temple in Delhi, an almost-as-old portion of Akureyri, and they planned to eventually settle a location in the Great Rift Valley. Where exactly, they were still unsure. It had been several centuries since their last trip to Southeast Africa and they were sorely overdue for a visit.
Aro was always pleased with how useful their messengers had become over the past few centuries. Reliable information could only travel so fast. Histories and art and bygones could only be transported with so much care. Their archival system had yet to suffer any loss of life, but the possibility always remained.
Even still, Aro would never relent to Caius' complaints or demands that they expand further into the Earth's crust there in Italy so that they may keep all of their knowledge closer.
Caius never took the animated reminder that cross-world travel was yet another wonderful aspect of the modern era too kindly.
They were feasting over today's delivery. The items their messengers had brought back had been placed upon tables so that they could be observed properly. Artifacts from the Indian archives and texts from beneath Akureyri furnished the room in a splendid manor.
Aro barely watched as people drifted in and out, bringing and taking pieces away with the swiftness required of them, ready to sort and store the items in their own, massive libraries. The book in his hands was a fanciful item, but disappointing for what it promised. Even without the information he'd been hoping for he allowed a gentle finger to caress the ridges of the ancient tempera depiction of the countryside not too far from Volterra.
The beauty of the illustration could not be overlooked. Hundreds of years of care had kept it physically crisp and visually stunning.
Aro pressed two slips of envelope overtop the picture, pasting them overtop of the colors with a crude yet effective sealant.
He slid the text closed and rested it on his lap. Aro lifted his head and smiled at the newcomer—a young man who had been staying with the Volturi for a handful of decades now—as he bowed before their thrones, awaiting acknowledgement or dismissal.
"Rise, dear Simon." Aro knew that he had enjoyed carting messages around their home in recent years.
"Master," the boy nodded. "Felix is to return with great news today. The archivists encountered him along the trip back. He sent his regards along with him as well as his estimated arrival."
"Wonderful," Aro grinned at the boy and stood, book still in hand. He beckoned him forward. "Any news from within our walls?" At the boy's frown, Aro tilted his head.
He was loath to speak out loud but Aro nodded encouragingly. "It appears that Jane…" His eyes flickered around them, and he swiftly lifted his arm.
"Ah," Aro spoke, reaching out for Simon's hand. "Say no more." Aro grasped the hand and hid his frown well.
Poor Jane, Aro also hid his sigh. She always was so irritable when Alec was away for more than a few months at a time.
His darling protege had been taking meals, and making a mess (and a raucous) within her quarters. Perhaps he would have to come up with an assignment for her as well. Something small, maybe nearby. He contemplated it as he released Simon's hand.
"Thank you, dear Simon." He smiled again. "I would like to make a request of you." Even without contact, Aro knew the anxiety across the young expression well. Simon surely thought Aro would request he assist in dealing with Jane's current tantrum, but that would've been a bit cruel, and was certainly not on Aro's mind.
He passed the ancient text off to Simon's hands. "For Felix, when he returns."
Simon accepted the task eagerly and nodded as he stepped back. "Any message, Master?"
"Only to return to the airstrip with this at his side, please."
Aro knew what Felix's return meant without having to even see him. Joham was dead. A group had been recruited. A mission was underway.
Words did not have to be exchanged. Demetri had opened his first letters. He knew what was at stake. He and Alec and Rohit and the four curious companions would not return to life in Volterra until the mission was complete and their opposition was finally dispatched and culled.
Caius had been grumpy about the exclusion with whatever series of events Aro had constructed. Jane was beginning to writhe with fury and resentment without her dear brother. Chelsea had been curious about being placed on standby, and even more curious about her sudden (but temporary, Aro had assured) removal from duty.
Even Corin was in questionable spirits. Her own ability had, tragically, Aro thought, never quite been as accessible to herself as it was to Athenodora, Sulpicia, or the rest of them.
Aro thought about the members of his guard in the Americas. He thought about those who remained in the walls or on active duty. He thought about those who were waiting for the same thing Aro was. He thought about his brothers and their reluctant trust in his odd behavior.
It was such a convoluted plan, to rid their world of such annoyances.
He sighed and turned, gesturing to Renata—who was almost two steps behind him—to approach. Her gaze was calm and measured as she offered her hand to him, which he grasped tightly. For once, he ignored the images he saw. Instead, he squeezed her hand kindly, released it, and then rested his hand on her shoulder.
With his thumb he absently brushed across the dark grey of her cloak and spoke. "You are a calming presence, my dear."
"I can only hope I will always be such, Master," she spoke, and oh, how rarely she did such a thing. He would miss her when she soon received her own old, sealed letters. Aro released her from his grasp, smiling as he turned back to sit in his seat. He chuckled once.
"Are we in reasonable humors today?" Marcus muttered absently from where he stood, glancing at items upon a table, but not touching them yet.
"Oh, you know what the young ones always say," he sighed and settled himself in his seat to watch over the room. He did not finish his sentence, but the meaning to himself was amusing.
Something about eggs and baskets.
A/N: A big thanks for the few reviewers I have on here; Jessica314, biblepam, Reinbeau, and mareluna312. I appreciate y'all making your presence known!
This marks the end of Act 3. As we proceed through the rest of the story I want to make sure you all heed the following content warnings going forward: dissociation and psychosis, graphic depictions of violence and torture, elements of sexual assault, and self-harm and suicidial ideation.
Take care of yourselves. Love y'all. See you in Act 4.