The grand halls of the Volturi palace, normally steeped in an air of quiet authority, brimmed with an unusual warmth. Today was a rare occasion, one that demanded more than formalities or decorum—it was Isabella's fifth birthday.
Aro stood in the center of the main hall, his hands clasped behind his back as he observed the preparations. The room had been transformed with white and gold garlands draping elegantly from the towering columns. Flowers, freshly imported from the farthest reaches of their domain, adorned every surface. This wasn't simply a celebration—it was a declaration. Isabella, his daughter, was no ordinary child.
She was his miracle, and though five years had passed since her birth, Aro still marveled at her existence. The child had softened the edges of his immortal life, bringing with her a light he hadn't realized he needed. Yet, that light also carried a sense of vulnerability—a feeling he despised in himself.
Standing beside him, Sulpicia gave a subtle smile as she observed the servants bustling about. "You're nervous," she remarked, her voice low but laced with amusement.
Aro glanced at her, his composure unbroken. "I am simply ensuring everything is perfect. She deserves nothing less."
Sulpicia's smile deepened. "She is a child, Aro. She values love more than perfection. But I suppose you already know that."
He did know it. Isabella's humanity, her boundless kindness, was a stark contrast to everything the Volturi represented. Her laughter had softened the most rigid corners of their ancient castle, even winning over those like Felix and Demetri, who had little patience for sentiment. But Aro couldn't ignore the faint undercurrent of worry.
Isabella was growing quickly, her preferences and habits reflecting her dual nature. She adored human food, a fascination that both charmed and unnerved him.
By the time Isabella entered the hall, the atmosphere had shifted. Guards and servants alike stood to attention as the child skipped in, her curls bouncing and her eyes wide with excitement. She wore a white dress adorned with golden embroidery, perfectly tailored to her small frame.
"Happy birthday, my love," Sulpicia greeted her, kneeling gracefully to embrace her daughter.
"Mommy!" Isabella exclaimed, her arms wrapping tightly around her mother's neck.
Aro stepped forward, his expression softening as he reached out to touch Isabella's cheek. "Do you know how many people have gathered here just for you, my little star?"
Isabella looked up at him, her brown eyes filled with wonder. "For me?"
"For you," Aro confirmed, his voice unusually gentle.
Sulpicia stood, smoothing Isabella's dress before taking her hand. "Come, my darling. Everyone is waiting."
One by one, the members of the Volturi stepped forward, each bearing a gift.
Felix, ever the protector, presented Isabella with a finely crafted wooden box. Its surface was carved with intricate scenes of forests and wolves. "For your treasures," he said simply, his usually gruff tone softened.
Demetri followed with a music box, its delicate melody filling the hall as Isabella turned its crank. She twirled on the spot, her laughter light and infectious.
Even Jane and Alec, usually reserved, offered her a pair of storybooks. "For the nights you wish to dream," Alec said, his tone formal but kind.
When Caius approached, the room fell silent. His stern demeanor had always been a source of fascination for Isabella, who seemed to take great delight in testing his patience. He handed her a small velvet box, his expression unreadable.
Inside was a hairpin, crafted in the shape of a snowflake and encrusted with diamonds. Isabella's eyes widened as she looked up at him. "It's beautiful, Uncle Caius!"
"Take care of it," he said brusquely, though there was an unusual softness in his voice.
"I will," she promised, her sincerity melting even his usual reserve.
As the festivities unfolded, Aro's gaze lingered on Isabella as she sat at a grand table adorned with delicacies Gianna had lovingly prepared. The scent of bread, butter, and a dozen other human delights filled the air. Isabella's eyes sparkled with excitement as she took a bite of her favorite—grilled cheese with a hint of rosemary. Her joy was radiant, but Aro couldn't help the knot tightening in his chest.
For all her love of human food, Isabella's rejection of blood concerned him. It wasn't as though she outright refused it—when gently coaxed, she would drink. Yet, the enthusiasm she showed for Gianna's meals was starkly absent when presented with a glass of carefully sourced blood. The little crease in her nose, the reluctant sip, the quiet murmurs of "I'm not that thirsty"—it weighed on him.
"It isn't natural," he thought, his lips pressing into a thin line. Isabella was unique, yes, but her dual nature required balance. Human food sustained her in ways blood could not, but going too long without it left her pallid, her heartbeat alarmingly faint. He'd seen it happen before, the dreadful toll of her resistance.
He hadn't shared his fears with Sulpicia in full—though he knew she sensed them. And he couldn't bring himself to discuss it openly with his brothers, even with Caius's recent tirades about hybrids. To see the girl they so adored revel in human indulgences while shunning their essential lifeblood—it was an unspoken sore point.
This reality had transformed life within the castle walls. Feeding, once an inherent part of their existence, had become carefully concealed from Isabella. No mortal ever met their end in her presence. The guards fed only beyond the palace's gates, returning discreetly after they were sated.
For centuries, the Volturi had lived unbothered by such concerns, their consumption of humans as routine as the night's fall. But Isabella's arrival had disrupted that dark harmony. Aro himself had commanded a change, creating a rule so unwritten it lived only in the respectful glances exchanged among his coven. She was never to see them feed. The macabre spectacle of immortality had no place in her life—not yet.
A fleeting laugh from Isabella pulled him from his thoughts. She was chatting with Felix, her face lit with uninhibited joy. Despite her small frame and youthful innocence, she possessed a power far more significant than strength or immortality—she held the ability to soften even the hardest hearts.
Sulpicia's voice broke into his thoughts. "Let her be, my love. She will find her balance, in her time." Her hand rested briefly on his arm, her touch grounding him.
Aro nodded, forcing a faint smile, but the worry lingered. Watching Isabella so happy and carefree was bittersweet. He couldn't help but question if he was sheltering her too much. Would she one day resent what she didn't yet understand?
As the festivities carried on, the concern pressed at the edges of his mind, never overpowering the joy of the moment but settling in the corners like a shadow, waiting for its time to resurface. For now, he set it aside. Today was Isabella's day, and her delight was more important than his endless fears.
As the festivities wound down, Aro took Isabella aside. Kneeling before her, he presented his gift: a delicate silver pendant inlaid with a ruby, its fiery hue reflecting in her curious gaze.
"This is for you, my Bella," he said, fastening the chain around her neck. "A reminder of your heart—unique, strong, and precious beyond measure."
Isabella touched the pendant, her small fingers tracing its edges. "Thank you, Daddy," she said softly, throwing her arms around him.
Aro froze for a moment, overwhelmed by the simplicity of her love. Then, gently, he wrapped his arms around her, his voice quiet but firm. "You are my world, my little one. Never forget that."
Sulpicia joined them, her hand resting lightly on Aro's shoulder as she leaned down to kiss Isabella's cheek. "And you are our greatest joy," she added, her voice filled with emotion.
Later that evening, as Isabella drifted off to sleep in her mother's arms, Aro stood by the window, staring out into the darkened horizon. He rarely allowed himself moments of vulnerability, but tonight, as the sound of his daughter's steady heartbeat filled the room, he felt the weight of time pressing against him.
"Do you think she'll ever understand?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sulpicia looked up from where she sat, her gaze calm but unwavering. "Understand what?"
"The choices we've made. The world we've brought her into."
Sulpicia's lips curved into a faint smile. "She already does, Aro. She may not have your years or my wisdom, but she has her own kind of strength. And that strength comes from knowing she is loved."
Aro nodded, his expression thoughtful. For all his power and ambition, Isabella had given him something he never thought possible—a sense of peace.
As he turned back toward his wife and child, the faintest smile graced his lips. Whatever lay ahead, he knew he would protect Isabella with everything he had. She was his light in an eternal darkness, and for her, he would defy even the fates.
No more tourist meals for the volturi.
Thank you for leaving reviews!!!
@Rita01tx I'm actually reading it right now, it's good. Thank you for your recommendation.
@Cullenosopy: is it a good kind of unrecognizable? LMAO