Edward's time with the Cullens was filled with questions, observations, and an underlying sense of detachment. He spent hours inquiring about Alice's and Jasper's abilities, carefully analyzing how they fit into Carlisle's carefully crafted coven. Alice's gift was of particular interest. Her visions of the future, though fluid and subject to change, seemed astonishingly precise.
One afternoon, in the quietude of the Cullen living room, Edward leaned against the piano, his arms crossed as he watched Alice sketch scenes from her latest vision. Her pixie-like features lit up as she turned to him.
"You're curious about Aro, aren't you?" she asked without preamble.
Edward raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"
Alice smirked. "You keep asking about my gift, and I can feel the undercurrent of your thoughts. You want to know if I can see him."
Edward's lips twitched into a half-smile. "Can you?"
Alice's expression grew thoughtful. "I can see glimpses, but only because you're tied to his decisions in some way. It's faint, like looking through a fogged window. Aro is brewing something, though. Something I can't quite decipher."
Edward's curiosity piqued. He didn't need to read her mind to sense the unease in her voice. "That sounds about right for him. He's always scheming," Edward replied coolly. "If I had to guess, he's finally pushing through with his obsession—a vampire hybrid."
Alice's gaze sharpened. "A hybrid?"
Edward shrugged nonchalantly. "A child, born of a vampire and a human. It's something he's toyed with for centuries. I suppose he's finally found the right human for his experiment."
Alice's expression shifted to one of concern, but Edward was unaffected. "It doesn't matter," he said, his voice flat. "Aro can do as he pleases. I don't care. I left that world behind."
Still, Edward couldn't help but marvel at Alice's gift. The sheer value of it was staggering. The fact that her visions could stretch to people connected to him—even those miles away—was remarkable. He could only imagine how Aro would salivate over such an asset.
When Edward wasn't immersed in Alice's visions or Jasper's explanations of his emotional manipulation, he grappled with the Cullens' unique way of life. Feeding on animal blood was as repulsive as he remembered. The acrid taste lingered on his tongue, a constant reminder of the sacrifices Carlisle's coven made to uphold their ideals.
He respected Carlisle's commitment to this diet and, out of deference to his "older brother," adhered to it during his stay. But Edward knew that when he returned to Volterra, he'd revert to his old ways without hesitation. Human blood was a necessity in that world, and he had no qualms about it.
One evening, during a hunt, Carlisle caught up to Edward as he eyed a herd of deer with thinly veiled disdain. "I know it's difficult," Carlisle said gently, his golden eyes filled with understanding. "But I appreciate your effort, Edward."
Edward glanced at him, his face impassive. "Don't mistake my compliance for conviction, Carlisle. I do this out of respect for you, nothing more."
Carlisle nodded, a faint smile gracing his lips. "That's enough for me."
Edward learned that the Cullens had an ongoing treaty with a local tribe of shape-shifters. It intrigued him, though he hid his fascination beneath a veneer of indifference. Carlisle explained that the tribe descended from wolves and could shift into their animal forms to protect their lands from vampires.
"Shape-shifters, not true werewolves," Carlisle clarified one evening. "Caius would be disappointed," Edward mused, his tone faintly amused. "He's always had a vendetta against werewolves. If he knew they were here, he'd likely send a battalion to exterminate them."
Carlisle's expression grew somber. "I've seen true werewolves as well. They're rare, but Caius's hatred is not unfounded. Marcus lost Didyme to one of them."
The mention of Marcus stirred a flicker of memory in Edward. He recalled the Volturi ruler's haunting grief, the way it lingered in every fiber of his being. It made the Cullens' familial bonds seem almost enviable.
To stave off boredom, Edward sparred regularly with Emmett and Jasper. Emmett's brute strength reminded him of Felix, though he lacked the Volturi guard's deadly precision. Jasper, on the other hand, was a tactician. His movements were calculated and efficient, shaped by his time as a warrior in the Southern vampire wars.
One afternoon, after a particularly grueling match, Edward leaned against a tree, his shirt torn from Emmett's exuberant attack. Jasper joined him, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Emmett's boisterous laughter in the distance.
"You fight like someone who's been through wars," Edward remarked, his tone neutral.
Jasper's golden eyes met his, a flicker of pain flashing within them. "I have. More than I'd care to admit."
Edward didn't pry further, but Jasper's thoughts betrayed him. The memories of bloodshed and chaos were vivid, a stark reminder of the darkness that lurked beneath his composed exterior. Edward found himself respecting Jasper in a way he hadn't anticipated.
Despite his growing familiarity with their routines, Edward couldn't help but find the Cullens' lifestyle mundane. Their insistence on blending in with humans—attending high school and college repeatedly—was baffling to him.
Yet, there was something oddly endearing about their dynamic. The mated pairs, in particular, were a constant source of intrigue. Emmett and Rosalie were openly affectionate, their bond unrestrained by decorum. Alice and Jasper, on the other hand, were subtle but no less intense.
It puzzled Edward. He rarely saw Sulpicia and Aro openly display their affection, though he knew their love ran deep. The Cullens, however, wore their emotions on their sleeves, as if they had something to prove.
As he watched them one evening, seated around the dining table they never used for food, Edward felt a strange mix of amusement and detachment. Their world was so different from his own, yet he couldn't entirely dismiss the appeal of their camaraderie.
Perhaps, for now, he could endure the monotony. After all, even he had to admit that a life without judgment, war, or scheming had its occasional charms.
So, Didyme was killed by werewolves, not by Aro. My version isn't like that. However, Marcus's ties with the Volturi are still due to Chelsea's gift because, without her, he would unalive himself. We all know that.