The unsettling quiet that descended over Volterra in the aftermath of the threats weighed heavily on Aro. Days stretched into nights with no letters, no messages, no hints of movement from their enemies. It wasn't peace—it was a predator's stillness, a waiting game where every moment of calm carried the promise of chaos.
Yet, what troubled him most was not the looming threat to his domain but the child in his care.
Isabella.
That night, Aro sat in his study, unable to focus on the scrolls scattered across his desk. He could still hear Bella's small, trembling voice echoing in his mind.
"Why do bad people hate us, Papa?"
It wasn't the question itself—it was the ache behind it, the unspoken fear that had pushed his confident, sharp-witted daughter to the edge of tears. A hybrid born to strength and surrounded by ancient power should never have to feel afraid, yet Aro had seen it in her wide, glassy eyes.
The conversation had lingered with him longer than it should have. That evening, Bella had come to him after overhearing part of Caius's latest discussion about their shadowed enemy. She had asked her questions earnestly, her voice wobbling in that childlike way that stripped Aro of his usual composure. He had done his best to explain it to her—to reassure her.
"Not everyone thinks as we do," he'd said. "Some lash out at what they do not understand. Others are jealous, child, and envy the lives we lead. That anger has nothing to do with you or any fault of your own."
"But why would they want to hurt us if they're jealous?" she asked softly, her lower lip trembling. "Doesn't being jealous mean you want to be like us? Doesn't that mean… you want to be friends?"
Aro hesitated. It was a difficult question, one he might have evaded if Bella's sorrowful gaze hadn't pinned him in place. "Sometimes envy turns to bitterness, my star. Those who cannot have what they desire choose to destroy it instead."
For a moment, Bella simply frowned at this explanation, considering his words with an expression far too somber for a child her age. "If I saw someone who wanted to destroy me," she muttered, her tone startlingly resolute, "I'd show them how strong we are. I'd stop them from hurting you or Mama or Caius or anyone else."
Aro had smiled faintly, patting her head. How fiercely protective she is, he thought. So young, and already so loyal to her family. Yet, as much as her bravery impressed him, it frightened him too.
He stayed by her bedside that night, stroking her hair as she fell asleep. Her little body curled up against his side, her thumb brushing absently against his sleeve even in her dreams.
And still, hours later, his mind replayed her words.
As Aro rose from Isabella's bed and stepped out into the hall, his thoughts turned toward Corin. His trusted guard had the ability to soothe and pacify the emotions of others, weaving a contentment so deep it bordered on euphoria. Corin's gift had proved invaluable over the centuries, bringing solace to those who found themselves overwhelmed by the rigors of Volturi life.
But could it be used on Isabella?
Aro stopped mid-step, staring blankly at the flickering shadows cast by the torches lining the corridor. The idea had merit. If Corin could ease Bella's fears, perhaps she would no longer feel the weight of her isolation or the lingering sadness Sulpicia had so delicately mentioned.
His thoughts were interrupted by a painful truth: Corin's gift will not work.
It was, ironically, a result of Isabella's very strength. Like her biological mother, she was a shield. Corin's abilities—indeed, the manipulations of any Volturi gift—could not touch her. She was a fortress within herself, closed off to any power that sought to alter her mind or will.
The old version of himself—cunning, pragmatic, unburdened by sentiment—might have felt frustration at this. Might even have searched for another way around it, manipulating circumstances to force her compliance.
But standing here now, an image of Bella's tear-streaked face flashing through his mind, Aro couldn't bring himself to even entertain the thought. He would not force Isabella's happiness. She was not a subject to be manipulated but a child to be protected.
His steps resumed, slower now, as he made his way toward the main hall. He couldn't help but remember Sulpicia's quiet plea earlier that evening. "She needs more, Aro. More than what we can offer her in these walls."
By the time Aro joined his brothers in the council chamber, Caius was already seated, his expression stern. Marcus sat to the side, silent and detached as always, though his gaze held a faint flicker of curiosity when Aro entered.
"It has been calm," Caius said without preamble. "Too calm."
Aro nodded, settling into his chair with a graceful ease. "The absence of movement is as loud as an approaching storm."
Caius huffed, clearly impatient with metaphors. "
We must decide our next move. The guard is restless, and the silence only worsens their discipline. Isabella has—" Aro hesitated, his expression tightening. "She's already asking questions."
At this, Aro's gaze sharpened. "She asked why vampires so powerful could have enemies," he murmured softly, more to himself than to the room. "A question born of innocence… and fear."
"Fear will do her no good," Caius snapped, his voice like a whip.
"She is a child," Aro returned evenly, his tone both calm and cutting. "Her fear is to be expected."
Caius's mouth twitched, but he let it drop. "What of Cullen?" Aro asked, steering the conversation away from Isabella.
"Edward has agreed to assist," Caius answered, and a faint smile played at the edges of his lips. "He is suspicious of us, of course, but curious enough to investigate the matter."
"For his curiosity alone, we're to tolerate his conditions?" Aro's tone was cold, disapproving.
"His conditions are reasonable," Caius countered. "He will assist only in identifying the mole. Once that task is complete, we shall part ways once more."
Aro frowned, but Ciaus sensed his reluctant acceptance.
"A message from him arrived earlier," Caius added. "Confirming his agreement."
"And then what?" Aro pressed. "If we do find this mole—if we uncover a larger plot—what makes you believe he will not turn against us? He does not trust us."
Caius smiled faintly, his gaze drifting toward the window. "Trust is not required," he said softly. "Only results."
In the stillness that followed, Aro thought again of Isabella. Of her questions, her worries, her bright but fragile soul. It was more than his reputation or the security of Volterra at stake now. The weight of her future—her safety—pressed heavily upon his mind.
"Call Edward's arrival a necessary step," he said finally, his voice a quiet resolve. "For all our futures."
The chamber was silent save for the soft crackle of a dying fire in the hearth. Aro stood by the window, his pale fingers lightly resting against the chilled glass, as though he could sense the arrival before it happened. Edward Cullen. The name alone brought memories flickering through his mind, of a time when Edward had once been part of his court, observing, calculating, refusing to surrender to the Volturi's ways. And now, he was returning—not as an ally, but as a necessary instrument in unearthing a traitor.
A faint, rare smile tugged at the corners of Aro's lips. He turned and began the slow, deliberate walk to Isabella's room.
When he entered, Isabella was seated on the plush rug, her dark curls tumbling over her shoulders as she focused intently on a puzzle of carved wooden pieces. She looked up when the door opened, her brilliant brown eyes wide with curiosity.
"Father," she said, her voice light and melodic. "You're back!"
Aro's expression softened. He moved to her side, lowering himself gracefully to the edge of the room's chaise longue. "Yes, my sweet one," he said, reaching out to gently brush a curl from her cheek. "And I have news."
Bella tilted her head, waiting.
"Do you remember the man I showed you in the photograph? The one I told you about before?" Aro's tone was measured but kind. "Edward Cullen?"
Bella's eyes lit up in recognition, her youthful enthusiasm shining through. "The one who's like you but doesn't stay with us?"
Aro's lips curved into another faint smile. "Precisely. He will be arriving soon."
"Why is he coming?" Bella asked, curiosity bubbling in her voice. "Will he help with the bad guys?"
"Yes," Aro affirmed. "He's coming to help us uncover who threatens our safety. And when he does, I want you to do something very important for me."
Bella blinked, sitting up straighter. "What is it?"
"I want you to use your gift," Aro said gently. "When you meet Edward, I want you to show him. Let him see your birth, your memories—the truth of who you are. It will help him understand your existence and the extraordinary nature of what you are."
Bella's eyes widened. "You want me to show him… everything?"
"Only what is necessary," Aro clarified, his tone both encouraging and firm. "The day you were born, your human mother, how your life began. These truths are better shared directly, so there is no misunderstanding."
Bella bit her lip in hesitation. "But… what if he doesn't like what he sees? Will he hate me if I don't show him?"
Aro's expression didn't falter, though a flicker of something deeper—protective—passed beneath his gaze. "He will not hate you, Isabella. This is not about seeking approval. This is about understanding. You are both human and vampire, and in that lies your strength. You must trust that your truth is enough."
Bella's frown faded into a soft giggle.
"Well, okay then," she said brightly, clapping her hands together. "I'll wear my prettiest dress when I meet him! That way, he'll have to like me."
Aro's brow lifted ever so slightly at her declaration, though his expression remained neutral. The faintest trace of amusement tugged at his composure.
"Of course," he murmured, rising to his feet. "Your finest attire, my dear. Edward Cullen will certainly find it most… memorable."
As he left her room, a flicker of pride mingled with his amusement. Isabella's innocence was endearing, yet her curiosity and strength had the makings of someone destined to redefine the boundaries of their world. Perhaps Edward, with all his skepticism and restraint, might even come to see that. But for now, Aro let his mind dwell on the peculiar sense of anticipation—one that he hadn't felt in centuries—as his daughter prepared to meet the Cullen in her finest dress.
SM owns twilight and Bella is so adorable.
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