Edward stood in the vast, marble-laden halls of Volterra's fortress, the sound of his steps echoing through the chamber as if the stones themselves were whispering secrets of his long existence. The grand structure was a monument to power, a statement of the Volturi's dominion over vampire kind. Its walls bore the weight of centuries, steeped in stories of justice, tyranny, and the indomitable rule of Aro, Caius, and Marcus. Edward fit here, though not seamlessly, like a blade sharpened for a purpose yet restrained from full use.

He had long shed the softer ideals of Carlisle's worldview, though he could never entirely dismiss his creator's influence. Carlisle's steadfast belief in the sanctity of life lingered in Edward's mind like a distant hymn, beautiful but unconvincing. Carlisle had envisioned a world where vampires restrained their predatory instincts, living alongside humanity in peace. Edward, however, believed in the natural order: predators and prey. He could not see the wisdom in suppressing their nature when it was both their right and their power.

That conviction was what drew him to the Volturi after Carlisle had briefly allied with them centuries ago. The three brothers, each embodying a different facet of their empire, had seen Edward's potential. Aro had been the first to approach him, his pale hand outstretched, eyes gleaming with curiosity and hunger. Edward's gift, the ability to hear thoughts with perfect clarity, had intrigued Aro endlessly. Yet it was not Aro's fascination that secured Edward's loyalty, but the cold logic of Caius. The Volturi did not ask their members to deny their nature. Instead, they harnessed it, transforming their predatory instincts into a structured system of power.

Edward's first assignment under Caius's command was during one of the Volturi's punitive campaigns against rogue covens in the Balkans. The carnage, though horrifying, was a necessary reminder of the Volturi's supremacy. Edward was not one to revel in slaughter; the brutality did not exhilarate him as it did others, as it did Caius. Yet, he executed his role with precision, his crimson eyes taking in the chaos with a detached calm that unnerved even the most seasoned guards.

One night, after a particularly grueling battle, Caius approached him by the embers of a crumbling village. "You do not enjoy this, do you?" Caius remarked, his voice sharp but laced with an unusual note of curiosity.

"No," Edward replied, his tone even, "but I understand it."

Caius tilted his head, his platinum hair gleaming in the firelight. "Understanding is far more valuable than enjoyment. It is why you excel."

Edward inclined his head in silent acknowledgment. That was the moment Caius began to regard him not just as a soldier but as an ally. There was no affection between them—Caius was incapable of it—but there was respect, and that was enough.

Aro, by contrast, was a creature of boundless enthusiasm, though his demeanor often masked a deeper cunning. He treated Edward like a rare treasure, constantly seeking to probe the depths of his mind and unravel the layers of his existence. Edward allowed it, knowing that resisting Aro's curiosity would only deepen it.

One evening, as the two stood in the Volturi's library, Aro placed a hand on Edward's shoulder. "Your thoughts are a symphony, Edward," he said, his voice rich with awe. "Such clarity, such discipline. You could teach Marcus himself a thing or two about focus."

Edward glanced at Aro, his expression unreadable. "Discipline comes from necessity, not choice. Clarity is merely a byproduct."

Aro laughed, a sound like a chime in the cavernous room. "Spoken like one who has lived long enough to see the folly of indulgence. Tell me, Edward, do you ever regret joining us?"

Edward's gaze lingered on the spine of an ancient tome before answering. "Regret is for those who can afford sentiment. I serve because it is logical, not because it is easy."

Aro's smile widened, though his crimson eyes gleamed with something inscrutable. "A practical man. How rare. You are a gift, Edward, truly."

Marcus, the quietest of the three, rarely interacted with Edward, though Edward did not take it as an affront. Marcus's gift of perceiving bonds between people made him inherently withdrawn, burdened by the loss of his mate centuries ago. Yet, there was a mutual understanding between him and Edward—a shared weariness that did not require words.

One night, as Edward stood on the balcony overlooking Volterra, Marcus appeared beside him, his presence as silent as his demeanor. They stood in companionable silence for what felt like hours before Marcus finally spoke.

"You don't belong here," Marcus said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Edward did not turn to face him. "And yet I stay."

Marcus inclined his head, his expression unreadable. "Because you are searching for something."

Edward's gaze remained fixed on the horizon. "And what do you think I'll find?"

Marcus gave no answer, slipping back into the shadows as silently as he had come.

Edward's centuries with the Volturi were punctuated by periodic returns to Carlisle's family. Though the Cullens welcomed him with open arms, there was always an unspoken tension. Carlisle respected Edward's choices but could not hide his disappointment. Esme's kindness softened the edges of their reunions, and Emmett's easy humor provided a fleeting sense of normalcy. Yet, Edward never stayed long.

He knew he was a paradox—a vampire who admired humanity's virtues yet chose to live among those who enforced their dominion over it. His time with the Volturi taught him discipline, strategy, and the necessity of order. His time with Carlisle reminded him of compassion, restraint, and the possibility of a different kind of eternity.

For over two centuries, Edward straddled these worlds, belonging fully to neither yet indispensable to both. It was a precarious balance, but one he maintained with the precision of a blade poised to strike.

As he stood once more in the great hall of Volterra, the torches casting flickering shadows against the ancient stone, Edward felt the weight of his existence settle upon him. He was not a Cullen. He was not entirely Volturi. He was something in between—a creature of shadow and light, bound to both yet free of neither.

And for now, that was enough.

New Fanfic:

This has been in my imagination for weeks, and I finally want to write it for my own satisfaction.

In this fanfic, Edward was changed by Carlisle not in the 1900s but in the 1700s. The other Cullens joined Carlisle at a later time. However, when Carlisle lived with the Volturi, only Edward stayed with them. He was fascinated by them, and as a result, he chose to stay. Edward in this version is a bit OOC—there's no self-hatred whatsoever less tortured and different relationship with the Volturi. He believes vampires are at the top of the food chain.

I'm so excited to write this one!

Please leave your reviews. Thank you.