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✉𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖 𝔸𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕤

Caius 

Caius sits perched on the edge of his throne, watching with rapt attention as thick purple smoke rises from a pile of ashes - formerly known as one of the members of a rather large Japanese coven. 

Caius can never remember its self assigned title; it changes about as often as its numerous past leaders and by the time word of it reaches Caius both will have changed once more. The coven - the last time he had bothered asking they had still called themselves Doguma - had busied itself for the last few centuries squabbling over trivial matters with several covens of comparable scales. 

If asked Caius would not have thought such a thing possible, but the consummate foolishness of Doguma - or whatever ill-considered name they choose to call themselves by these days - seems to have reached new heights, seeing as they have now elected to send a representative to Volterra. 

Caius watches as the pile smoulders some more. A fair representation of Doguma indeed. That will teach them, he thinks to himself, to try and involve them in such dull affairs. It is a trivial matter indeed, given that whomever ends up claiming victory in this series of disputes and manages to succeed in securing the land they were fighting over, shall certainly reign no longer than a few years or so before yet another name change is in order. In any case Caius has absolutely no interest in the matter, so long as whomever gets to play at being leader for the time being is wise enough as to refrain from breaking any of the laws he and his brothers had implemented millennia ago and have enforced ever since. 

The pile before them slowly ceases to smoke; the opaque purple clouds dissipating as the remaining ash continues, barely, to smoulder. Next to Caius, Aro giggles quietly.

Caius turns, a cunning remark comparing the longevity of the flames to that of the Doguma’s leaders on the tip of his tongue, only to find his brother’s attention fixed not on the pile of ash before them but the mobile device in his hand. 

Caius rolls his eyes, swallowing the plethora of admonishing remarks directed toward his brother threatening to escape him. Instead he waves a dismissive hand and Felix obediently steps forward, carrying a broom. He sweeps what remains of the Doguma’s messenger boy into the gutter embedded in the depression in the floor, the ash quickly disappearing in the drainage system beneath. 

A satisfying sight to behold, one that Aro is not merely missing but outright ruining for Caius as he giggles again - quietly at first, almost child-like - before throwing his head back and roaring with unconstrained laughter. Caius stares, aggravated beyond belief by the egregious noise. His brother doesn’t meet his simmering gaze however, as his focus remains entirely with the small device in his hand. Caius continues to watch him for a moment, another biting comment on his lips as his brother dissolves into yet another fit of high pitched giggles, ending in a heartfelt sigh and a fond look directed at the shiny little surface of mankind’s most frivolous invention yet.

Appalling, Caius thinks. He had always hated his brother’s tendency to laugh like some insane hag, though that absurd tendency of his had only become more apparent over the many years they had spent at each other’s sides. It is hardly becoming of a man in his position, not to mention a man of his age. 

Then again Caius does rather enjoy the way his particular brand of unhinged laughter unsettles their enemies - the sharp note of volatile insanity tinting his tone had served as a valid cause of concern among them; occasionally daunting enough to send the first defectors running for the hills. But there is no one to listen to it now, no one to be tormented by his deranged display; no one but his brothers and some guards, and his laughter sounds decidedly... well, sane certainly wouldn’t be the right term for it, but neither would erratic or crazed per se.

If anything he sounds enamoured, disgustingly so. Maddening in its own right.

Aro is grinning widely now, typing away on the sleek little phone. Caius himself has never understood the need for them - pesky little things, unsightly too. 

Alec, poor little fool that he is, has also developed a tendency to become rather fond of these little inventions humanity seems so intent to spend its time and resources on these days - an endless variety of consoles and their mobile cellular device counterparts, less devices meant to facilitate communication than black holes meant to devour both time and purpose of all those who dare come too close. 

The boy whom Caius once believed held great potential in spite of his numerous shortcomings is constantly playing idiotic games which manage to be both tediously colourful and noisy while simultaneously retaining the dullness that tapping one's fingers against flat surfaces had always held. Rather than honing his skills the boy has taken to trying to convince Caius that strategic games ought to count as an education akin to that he himself received as a young spartan. 

He might just as well have spat in Caius’ face. 

Not to mention the ridiculous music accompanying each and every single one of them. Caius had, on more than one occasion, felt the urgent need to remind him to keep the noise down, lest he lose himself and-

“Fatality!” A deep voice rumbles through the speakers of what Caius can only assume to be the very thing occupying his resentful thoughts at present. A quick glimpse in the boy’s direction confirms Caius’ apprehensions. Alec, too, is busy with his some sort of handheld device, and even Jane - whom Caius usually respects for her exemplary gravitas - is watching the screen over his shoulder with mild interest. 

Caius respects her a little less now, he decides as an annoyed huff escapes him at the irksome display. Childish.

It is in moments such as these when Caius most deeply misses the fourteenth century. He glances at Marcus, and wonders if somewhere in that bovine mind of his he does, too. 

When his brother chuckles at what Caius’ can only assume to be yet another brightest mind of a generation turned pen pal his patience has reached its admittedly low limit and he shoots up with a loud snarl, rushing toward Aro and ripping the offending device from his hands. "Give me that." he growls through gritted teeth, readying himself to crush the menacing thing in his hands in order to force some sense back into both his brother and those emulating him when the bright little text bubbles displayed on the screen catch his eye. "What is this-” Caius questions sharply, staring down at the glowing words. 

His brother has been known to court friendship through the exchange of letters and such; he always had, seeking out inventors, artists and philosophers with the intention to devour their minds whole and adding them onto his ever growing collection of eccentricities. 

He even had seduced a fair share of them in the past, having thought them interesting enough to keep around for a little while before inevitably growing bored with them, one way or the other. 

Caius knows this situation to be incomparable the moment Aro reaches out, trying to snatch the phone back from him with a genuine look of desperation etched onto his features which Caius has not seen there since- 

Caius takes a hurried step back, swiftly evading his grasp. 

"What is the meaning of this, Aro?" He asks, holding onto the mobile device still. Aro regains his composure quickly, that familiarly calculating look returning to his features along with an air of confidence and a stance that speaks to the ease he feels facing him. The implication being, of course, that the conclusion he has drawn is absurd, and deserving of mockery. But Caius knows what he saw. “Who is Isabella?”

Bella

Bella lies tucked beneath several layers of blankets in her bed, listening to the sound of rain drumming on the roof as she stares at the small glowing screen in front of her. She pulls her blanket pile a little tighter around herself, her eyes still heavy and struggling to make much of the otherwise mostly dark room. He isn’t replying anymore, so maybe Aro has finally fallen asleep. 

The poor guy seems to rarely catch any rest - always up when she is, in spite of the difference in time zones. Bella sighs quietly, trying to convince herself to get up and leave the comforting warmth of her bed behind and face another cold, rainy day. Another day of school, another day of being the new girl. 

Come one, come all and see - a strange creature outside of her comfort zone, her natural habitat, on open display.

She’d hoped to be integrated by now - and she is, she thinks. For the most part. She has a more or less solid friend group; people to sit with at lunch or during classes, people who wait for her in the morning and share their notes with her. But she is still the main event at school, a new face amidst a crowd of people whose complicated ties go back entire generations. She can constantly feel the curious eyes of her classmates on her, still sizing her up in an effort to figure out where she fits into that picture. She’s wondering the same thing. 

Bella has been the new girl  a couple of times already having moved around a lot in her childhood and early teens, but her status as the new girl had tended to be more short lived when she’d gone to schools in bigger cities where most of the students didn’t take notice of her at all. She’s never been one to stick out in a crowd, other than maybe for her ghostly pallor. 

In Forks that means she fits right in. At least visually. She misses the anonymity large schools had provided her with in the past, and most of all misses not being Isabella Marie Swan, the Chief’s daughter . 

With a heavy sigh she kicks off the comforter, inelegantly slipping out of bed and dragging herself over to the small bathroom, her bag of toiletries already in hand. She goes through the motions of getting ready in a daze, having had a bit of rough night - plagued by somewhat weird dreams she can barely even remember now. 

Sighing to herself again she makes her way downstairs, preparing some breakfast and lunch to take with her, handing Charlie - who is currently nursing a steaming mug of coffee while reading through some files - a sandwich. Charlie accepts the sandwich with an appreciative hum, murmuring his thanks a moment later.

Bella absentmindedly takes a bite of her own sandwich, leaning against the counter. If she stays like this, she might still be able to fall asleep again- even standing up. She’s probably the last person who should be lecturing Aro about getting enough rest, regardless of the fact that she’d gone to bed early enough she feels like a zombie, only managing dispassionate grunts in response to Charlie’s inquiries about her night, her plans for today. 

Eventually she slings her bag over her shoulder and murmurs a quick goodbye on her way outside, only to be greeted immediately by the constant downpour of rain she has more or less managed to get used to these days. 

She’d never been big on rain, but she has sort of come to appreciate the white noise and scent of freshly wet forest grounds it provides her with, calming her nerves somewhat already. Now if only she didn’t have to actually walk through the downpour. 

With her hood pulled all the way down to the tip of her nose and her hands meshed into the pockets of her coat she stomps down the driveway while managing to avoid any big puddles; careful not to repeat yesterday’s mistake of soaking her Converse in them. 

By what some might describe as a miracle Bella reaches her shabby old truck without any incidents this time. She slings her backpack over to the passenger seat, followed by her soaked coat. They leave a wet patch on the seat and a puddle on the floor, but Bella doesn’t have it in her to mind either. She runs a hand through the wet strands of hair clinging to her cheeks and pulls it to the back of her head instead. 

She checks her phone, one last time, before putting the car into gear and heading out. 

𝖭𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌.

With the radio on and her mind on autopilot Bella makes her way to school, parking her beloved monstrosity as close to the entrance as she can muster only to find herself reluctant once more to leave the safety of her truck and join the small tired looking crowd trotting into the tiny school building. Bella mentally gives herself a quick pep talk, telling herself that it’ll be over before she knows it and that she’ll be free to text Aro to her heart's content once she’s made it through all of her classes - and once he’s caught a bit of well deserved shuteye. Her hand reaches for her phone unconsciously, stroking its outline in her pocket. It’ll be okay. 

She climbs out of the truck with her coat draped over her head like a blanket, ready to make a run for it. 

She shouldn’t be so reliant on Aro anyway. Any day now he might just decide that he’s too busy with actual real life obligations to deal with her daily texts. He might just stop answering, find someone new to talk to. She can’t even blame the guy, it’s not like she has all that much to offer him in return for his seemingly endless supply of knowledge. Sometimes she genuinely thinks he could give any old search engine a run for its money.

"Hey Bella, we were just talking about you-" Jessica greets her once she slumps down in her seat next to her. Oh, great. Rather than answering straight away Bella begins to unenthusiastically pull out her books from her backpack. Some of the pages got soggy in the rain, and after a brief moment of deliberation Bella stacks them onto the radiator by the window instead. 

She manages a quiet "Oh?" eventually, while fumbling with the sticky pages of a trigonometry book and arranging her notes, which managed to stay mostly dry, all the while trying to feign interest in whatever Jessica has apparently been talking about to the others. 

"Yeah, you know - we were thinking of maybe going to La Push again soon, the weather is supposed-" Jessica prattles on, completely oblivious to Bella’s zombified state, and Bella nods along, barely listening to a word that is leaving her mouth. 

“Uh-huh, yeah, sure.”

"Maybe you could call up your friends from the Rez, ask them if they-" 

Her phone vibrates in her pocket and Bella risks a quick look around, checking the perimeter for her teacher, Mr Varner, who hates phones with a burning passion and delights in collecting them from any student who dares to so much as glance at them while at school. 

The coast is clear however, so she pulls it out, stealthily reading the new message beneath the table. 

✉1 𝖭𝖾𝗐 𝖬𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝖥𝗋𝗈𝗆: 𝖡𝖺𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗇  

𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝖠𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇. 𝖨‘𝗆 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗈𝗎𝗌 - 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖨’𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾? 

So… not asleep then, Bella thinks wryly, staring at the text bubbles next to the little bat avatar. She’d named him after it - That weirdo with the bat avatar had turned into the bat guy which had over the course of their conversations morphed into Batman in her mind at about the same time as she started talking to him in a slightly more private setting. Her esteem for him had only grown from there, and so the Italian mystery guy with the sort of analytical mind honed with sharp edges Bella had only ever read about had - at least in her mind - become some kind of super detective with an interest in the obscure and dark, someone who rarely sleeps and might vanish in an instant. 

She gulps down a breath, her heart immediately picking up pace as she rereads the words. Having some sort of ambiguous online back and forth is one thing - meeting up for real is another. She’d been warned, time and time again, of the dangers of online dating. Getting catfished, predators - all that jazz. 

𝖨 𝖽𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗈, she types, only half jokingly. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖨 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐. 

𝖢𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾. 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍? comes the quick reply and Bella falters. He’s older, she knows - that much is evident in the way he articulates himself, and he hadn’t exactly made a secret of it, back when they’d spoken- though he hadn’t actually addressed it outright either. With him being European the legalities of their relationship are kind of murky, though in any case she‘s pretty certain that dating a 17 year old is a bit of a grey area  regardless. If that is what they are doing. It’s not like they’ve done anything illegal… yet. And they hadn’t exactly put a label on it. Maybe that is by design. 

𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖠𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺? She types, evading his question for now. Also, where exactly are you going? It’s not like you can just drop by if you’re on the other end of the country, you know. 

Bella is about to slide her phone back into her pocket when it vibrates again. Mister Varner has yet to actually show up, and she knows she‘s lost the battle against her curiosity when her phone vibrates yet again. 

✉ 2 𝖭𝖾𝗐 𝖬𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆: 𝖡𝖺𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗇  

𝖣𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖨’𝗆 𝖺𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗂𝖽 - 𝗋𝖾-𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌.  

𝖨’𝗆 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖨’𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

 

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖠𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺? Bella questions, adding that tidbit of information to the ever growing list in her mind. 

𝖣𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌, 𝗒𝖾𝗌. 

𝖠𝗅𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, she answers before she can change her mind. We can meet up. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖾. 𝖬𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝖽’𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝖾𝖿, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐. 𝖧𝖾‘𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗆𝖾. 

𝖫𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗍.    

𝖬𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖾?    

𝖡𝗈𝗍𝗁. 𝖳𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖨’𝗆 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖨 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾- 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗒. 

Bella can’t help the tug at her lips then. Her heart is still hammering wildly in her chest, her cheeks ache and burn, but Bella can‘t stop grinning. 

𝖱𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗌.      

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾, 𝖻𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗂𝗇𝖺. 

"Isabella Swan - who  are you texting?" Jessica’s voice rips her out of her small bubble, grounding her in reality once again. "Are you blushing ? Who is he?" Jessica prods and Bella quickly disappears behind a curtain of her hair, trying to block her embarrassingly obvious blush from Jessica’s line of sight as she shoves her phone back into her pocket. 

Lucky for her, Mr Varner does arrive before Jessica can properly delve into her questions - though Bella can feel her eyes burn holes into the side of her head even as they begin to work on their trigonometry assignments. This isn’t over, she knows. 

Over the course of the entire lesson Jessica keeps writing little notes which she more or less subtly slides over the table whenever Mr Varner turns his back- Who is he? Where did you meet? Is he your boyfriend?  After a while the notes simply read Bella!  And, eventually, those too are abandoned in favour of little paper balls being thrown at the side of her face. By the time class ends Jessica is in full on interrogation mode, prodding Bella with one question after another while Bella tries to come up with some excuse, some diversion to get her off her back. 

"Hey Angela, how are the twins?" She blurts a little too loudly as they reach their usual table, quickly sliding into a seat between her friend and Mike Newton, who is currently munching on a cold slice of pizza. He looks content, and Bella wishes life were that simple for her. 

"Oh, they’re-" 

"Bella has a boyfriend." Jessica interrupts Angela, seating herself directly across from Bella. Both Mike and Eric’s heads shoot up, their faces shocked - eyes and mouths wide open. Bella cringes, hugging herself tightly. 

"What? Who? " Eric asks immediately while Mike tries not to choke on his pizza. 

"She won’t say. But he calls her bambina." Jessica says, obviously enjoying this a little too much. She wiggles her eyes brows meaningfully and puts on an accent as she pronounces the nickname before halting, reconsidering. "Is it because of your name? Are you even Italian? Is he ?" 

Bella sinks a little deeper into her seat, shrinking away from the collective gazes concentrated on her. "So uh- regarding the La Push thing-" she tries, but Jessica shakes her head harshly, leaning forward in her seat like some kind of mobster about to make a particularly nasty threat. 

"Come on Bella, why the secrecy? It’s not one of the guys from La Push, is it? Are you taking him to the dance? Oh my god  - is it like a forbidden love or something? What, is he older? Are you into that sort of thing? " 

Bella gapes at her, surprised by Jessica’s ability to jump to scarily accurate conclusions. People tend to underestimate her - a pretty girl who enjoys feminine things - when in reality, Jessica possesses the mind of a bloodhound, finely tuned to any kind of secret. Bella is pretty sure Charlie could profit from having someone like her on the team.

Admittedly, Bella hadn’t exactly thought to put up much of an effort of hiding her conversations with Aro- back at home no one cared about who she may or may not be texting; not that she’d ever done anything like this before. Still, she can’t shake the feeling that she should’ve known better than to text him in class- while sitting next to the world's greatest consulting detective. 

She turns, looking to Angela for help who merely gives her an apologetic smile in turn; they both know there is no stopping this in the long run. Still, if it can be postponed at least for a little while-

"I’m gonna grab something to eat." Bella announces beneath her breath, scrambling to quickly get up - all the while ignoring the food waiting in her backpack in favour of an excuse to leave the table. Her sandwich is probably a pile of soggy mush anyway. 

She makes her way over to the opposite side of the cantina on stiff legs, inelegantly scurrying away. When Jessica doesn’t follow she heaves a sigh of relief, having escaped the situation successfully- at least for now. She can still feel Jessica’s eyes on the back of her head, keenly aware that the moment she puts some distance between herself and the table the white noise of conversation is interrupted by the screeching sound of a chair being pulled up. She can practically see Jessica leaning over the table, a conspiratorial look in her eyes as she recounts the exact proceedings of trigonometry class in scarily accurate detail to a spellbound audience. Bella shudders. 

She feels a little bit like one of those celebrities getting hounded by paparazzi, screaming No comment! only to hold some cheap magazine in their hands a day later and find that someone went and just ran with whatever story they could come up with. She definitely shouldn’t have left Jessica in charge of the narrative, but she isn’t feeling up to any kind of confrontation whatsoever right now. 

There’s really only one person she feels like talking to.

On her way over to the food line she risks another glance at her phone. So, when will you be here? she types, immediately regretting it once she’s pressed send. 

It comes off a little too needy for her taste, maybe just a bit too eager since Aro barely even floated the idea. But it‘s too late to change anything now she supposes, shoving the phone back into her pocket. She grabs one of the ugly blue trays, mindlessly filling it with a cup of fruit and a salad. Just as she’s about to grab an apple a familiar voice startles her and she twitches, nearly spilling the contents of her salad bowl onto his perfectly sky-blue button up. 

"So I hear you have a boyfriend now." Edward says quietly, steadying her with his outstretched hand. "A little twitchy today, are we?" He smiles at her- a disarming sort of smile, the kind he wields like an actual weapon sometimes.

"Jesus, not you too." Bella groans, muttering a quiet thanks as she rights herself. "How the hell did you hear- Jessica isn’t going around telling people is she?" Bella risks a quick glance around, looking for her friend .

Edward merely grins at her, jerking his head in the direction of her table. Bella leans forward a bit, catching a glimpse of Jessica in the act - leaning over her chair in what seems to be some kind of risky acrobatic manoeuvre to whisper into Lauren Mallory’s ear- who is sitting one table down the line, whispering something back as she watches their exchange. 

Jessica, at least, has the good sense to look somewhat  chastised at getting caught. Turning back around Bella stares at her food; anywhere but directly at Edward. "He’s not my boyfriend." She mutters exasperatedly, picking up an apple and inspecting it carefully. It has a dent. Bella takes it anyway, already motioning to leave.

"Ah, but there is a he ." Edward says, following her as she walks along the line of students. 

"I don’t see how this is anybody’s business but my own." Bella grinds out defiantly, her grip on the plastic tray tightening. 

"You wound me," Edward sighs, hands flailing through the air dramatically. "I thought we were friends." 

"Yeah." Bella utters indignantly. She sounds a little bitter even to her own ears, but it can’t be helped. He hasn‘t been this chatty in a week. Actually, he‘s been avoiding her for a while, going as far as missing biology classes again. "When it suits you. You know, you should really make up your mind about that, if you want me to tell you about stuff like this." 

"I think it’s a good thing- You having a boyfriend." Edward says softly, smiling down at her. It looks forced, ingenuine somehow, and yet it might just be the kindest thing he‘s ever said to her. Maybe that‘s why he’s so uncomfortable saying it. 

"He’s not my boyfriend." Bella repeats stubbornly anyway. Edward chuckles at her tone, playfully nudging her side. Bella tries valiantly to counter with a shove of her own, but Edward seems unfazed- smirking down at her. 

"So then what is he?"

Edward keeps following her, easily falling into step with her as she makes her way further down the line. "Just- ugh." Bella explains, eloquent as usual. "You’re really no better than Jessica." Edward’s grin merely widens in response - dialling up his charm to dazzling levels. Bella huffs, a little charmed despite herself. "Actually, I met him because of you." She says after a moment, having given up on keeping her silence. At least she could be pretty certain that Edward wouldn’t go around spilling her secrets to all of Forks - he isn’t the type to socialize anyways. Usually. 

"Oh?" Edward says while slightly tilting his head to the side, subtly encouraging her to go on.

"Well, I was uh, doing research - trying to come up with some more theories about, you know. You. " Bella explains quietly, her cheeks heating in embarrassment. "Met him on a forum, that’s when we got talking." She sets her tray down, sliding into a free seat on a vacant table. Edward takes the seat opposite from her, and immediately Bella feels the number of eyes on them double. She shrinks a little. "He’s not my boyfriend." she repeats again - for good measure. 

"You’re really adamant about that." Edward observes, leaning back in his seat - the picture of unattainable attractiveness. GQ-Model hot, even though he seems a little tense. Maybe he had another falling out with his siblings - it would explain his sudden interest in her; like a switch has been flipped. His moods seem to be like that in general.

"Because he’s not." Bella insists, biting into her apple. "We’ve been texting for a few weeks, and we’ve talked on the phone once ." she swallows another apple slice, angrily waving her hand through the air. "It’s not like I really know him." 

"But you’d like to." Edward says softly. Bella sighs inwardly. God, yes - she wants to know everything about him. Part of her had quickly latched onto this new obsession, while the other begged her not to lose her head and get herself into something she won’t be able to get out of again. 

"I- I mean sure, I’d like to. He’s an interesting guy, but he lives on the other side of the Atlantic. It's not like I can just... you know, date  him." Bella hunches her shoulders, the reminder of that reality hitting a little closer to home than she’d like- Aro is… well, Bella had never been boy crazy. While all her friends had worked their way from one crush to another, she’d held out, waiting. Not for Mister Right  or anything like that- but for something… amazing. Something akin to what she’d read about, something real, yet epic . 

Every now and then, boys had noticed her - though her friends had been much prettier, much more talkative and open, every so often a boy would like her. And Bella had waited to like them back- she really had. She’d waited for butterflies in her stomach, for shaky knees and the urge to write their name in her notebook, over and over. But it never came. 

And now there’s Aro. 

Aro, who easily manages to make her laugh and blush and think with a single quip, Aro who is witty and brilliant  and has a seemingly endless supply of stories and encyclopaedic knowledge on just about every topic Bella could think of. Aro, whose deep accented voice is incredibly soft and velvety, and sends pleasant shivers down her spine. Aro, whose melodic laugh makes her stomach tighten pleasantly whenever she manages to prompt it by making some stupid joke or other. Aro, whose name, Bella is embarrassed to admit, she had thoroughly researched and absentmindedly sketched a bunch of times while chatting with him.

Now there is Aro, and of course  he lives practically on the other side of the world and suddenly, Bella is afraid. Because there may never be someone like him again. At least, she can’t imagine there being anyone else like that- someone who encompasses all the things he does, wrapped up in a neat little bow. Just… Aro.

Edward shrugs. "You wouldn’t be the first person to have a long distance relationship, you know?" 

Bella snorts an undignified laugh in response. "Right. Because those tend to work out so well for people. Besides - I don’t even know if he’s interested in me like that." 

"They do for some people." Edward says non-committedly, emphasising his words with vague hand gestures that leave Bella feeling no less unconvinced than before. "And there is only one way to find out." he adds, thick eyebrows wiggling suggestively. Bella is about to respond when her phone vibrates in her pocket. She blushes - a Pavlovian response at this point - and Edward grins; that wide, boyish grin he seems to reserve for moments like these- moments of the let the ground swallow me whole variety. "That’s him?" he says, snatching Bella’s phone from her clammy hand. 

"Hey!" 

"Don’t worry, I’m just helping you figure his intentions out." Edward amends, waving a dismissive hand at her. Bella lets her outstretched arm sink to her side uselessly, feeling conflicted. On one hand she doesn’t much appreciate Edward snooping around like this - on the other she is  curious about Aro’s intentions. About what Edward might be able to gleam from their texts that she might’ve overlooked...

“So, you met this guy on a forum, huh?” He says, thumbing the little buttons on her phone. “Researching what , exactly?”

“Uh,” Bella mutters, evading his curious gaze. “Doesn’t matter, really. Aren’t… aren’t you gonna eat?” She says, latching onto the next best diversion. Edward follows her gaze, staring at his own tray for a moment before holding up her phone- busy . Of course.

“Cute.” He says, gesturing at the little bat avatar and the nickname still assigned to his contact. Bella cringes slightly as Edward’s lips twitch, having forgotten that little titbit of information.

“So you’re into the super hero type, huh?” Edward smiles that crooked smile of his, but there is something in his eyes… Bella gulps. Suddenly the forum seems a lot less… silly , and she finds herself reminded of why she’d found herself on there in the first place. His brows shoot up as he reads. When he looks up again one eyebrow remains raised in apprehension. " Isabella Marie Swan ," he says, sounding just like Jessica. Creepy . "A business trip ? How old is he?" 

"I- I’m not sure." Bella stutters, nervously glancing around the cafeteria. Jessica and the others are watching them attentively. Bella glares at them for a moment before turning to glare at Edward instead. "Give it back." she snarls through gritted teeth. She’s definitely had enough of being everyone’s lunch entertainment act. 

"Careful with that." Edward murmurs as he hands her the phone, sounding genuinely worried for her. Bella’s stomach twists slightly at his tone of voice. 

"I know, I know." she amends, eyeing the screen nervously.  

✉1 𝖭𝖾𝗐 𝖬𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆: 𝖡𝖺𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗇 

𝖤𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗆𝖾, 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎? 𝖨 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖠𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀? 

Bella feels her cheeks heat, her face no doubt beet red now. She really wishes Edward hadn’t seen that. Still - Aro wants to see her tomorrow, right after his arrival. Her heart jumps in anticipation, even as the more rational part of her reminds her that he could very well be a creep. It’s just- he’s nothing like the usual crowd you’d see on to catch a predator . Yes, they’d only been talking for a little more than two weeks, but their discussions had been so envigorating -

𝖸𝖾𝖺𝗁. 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖽𝗈? 

"Do you?" Edward asks dubiously, watching her type. 

𝖣𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋?

𝖲𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖨’𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 - 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽. 𝖯𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗋𝖽.

𝖠𝗁, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖨’𝗆 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝖨’𝗆 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗍. 

"Bella." Edward says, kicking her feet. " Bella ." Bella looks up from the words on her screen, her heart hammering wildly in her chest.

"Yeah?" She whispers breathlessly, feeling just a little faint.

" Do you? " Edward presses, eyeing her carefully. “Do you know?”

Bella sighs, cringing away from him. "I- Look. He’s older, and I’m- I’m not sure what he wants from me. But I’m not helpless or anything, I can look out for myself, I have for 17 years now." 

Edward doesn’t look reassured. Bella can’t fault him for that - she is following the exact script of gullible teenager about to get murdered by some psycho she met online . She isn’t sure there’s anything she could realistically say to make the whole thing sound more palatable. Truthfully it is all rather- well. Idiotic. Risky. 

"He’s funny." she says quietly, staring at her hands. "Charming. Suave. Educated. I’ve never had the kind of conversations I’ve had with him with anyone. His opinions and wit- I mean, it’s like-" she waves a hand through the air vaguely, trying to find the right words. "He doesn’t strike me as the kidnapping type." 

And if he does want to kidnap her… well, Bella supposes there’s worse people to be kidnapped by.

"But he’s into- I mean, does he know  how young you are?" Edward questions. Great. Now he’s gone from sounding like Jessica to sounding like Charlie. Bella isn’t certain which is worse. She’s pretty sure that Charlie would confiscate her phone and put a bullet in it if he knew. She shudders.

"He knows I’m a student." she answers vaguely, avoiding Edward’s eyes. Making herself look even more guilty. As the awkward silence between them stretches she forces herself to meet Edward’s steely gaze, immediately regretting it. 

"I don’t think meeting him is a good idea, Bella." 

Bella bristles. Who cares what you think, she wants to say. You’re also hellbent on not being friends with me, but look where you are. She doesn’t say that. 

"Well, I- it’s really none of your business." she hisses defiantly instead, shoving her phone back into her pocket. "What’s it to you if he does turn out to be a serial killer? At least then you won’t have to worry about having saved me from that stupid van anymore-" she spits, hastily getting up from her seat and slinging her bag over her shoulder while stomping off.

"Bella -" Edward calls after her, but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t turn around - though her anger quickly dissipates as she takes note of all the eyes following their exchange, endlessly interested in the display. 

God. Bella really misses life in Phoenix. 

Charlie

“I’m home.” Bella calls from somewhere behind him. Charlie reaches for the remote, muting the TV. He can hear her throw her bag somewhere before taking off her jacket, rustling fabric and a quiet curse. 

“Living room.” He calls back over his shoulder.

Bella trudges in a moment later. Charlie twists on the sofa to face her, motioning for her to come join him. 

“You hungry? I ended up staying longer than I’d planned, just got home myself. Here, have a look.” He hands her his impressive collection of menus from the local restaurants. “You can take your pick.”

Bella accepts the offered cards, briefly looking over the tattered looking pages. She gives a little laugh, demonstratively holding them up. “You eat out a lot? Isn’t that unnecessarily expensive? I can cook.”

Charlie gives a grunt in response. “We’ll see about that once we get the chance to go grocery shopping, but right now I’m starving and in the mood for lasagna.” He points at a prospect in particular. “Besides, the owners are practically family. It’s as good as a home cooked meal.”

Bella shakes her head at him, her expression demolishing but light nonetheless. She’s in a good mood, Charlie gathers, watching her pick up the menu he’d pointed out. 

“Lasagna sounds good. Make it a family size one, so you can take some leftovers to work with you tomorrow. I’ll go grocery shopping after school.” 

Charlie makes a non-committal noise in response. He doesn’t want her taking on too many chores around the house, but he also lacks the time and energy to finish them before she gets the chance to. It’s every parents dream, he supposes, to have a kid that is eager to help around the house. But it makes Charlie feel like a wicked stepmother, reducing his estranged daughter to a maid. 

“Hey, Bells,” he says, eyeing from the side while she is still busy looking at the menus. She hums, not looking up just yet. “Billy and I got to talking a while back- do you remember our fishing trip in the Olympic National Park? You must’ve been what, nine years old?”

Bella makes a noise, scrunching up her nose. “Yeah, I remember.” she mumbles.

Charlie tries not to let his insecurity show. He’d meant to take her there again, him Billy, Jake and Bella. Looks like that’s going to be a harder sell than he’d hoped though. He clears his throat, trying to come up with the right thing to say. Just as he opens his mouth, Bella’s phone starts to buzz. 

Bella gets up, seemingly to answer her phone. Maybe that’s Renée. He hears her rummaging in her backpack for a moment before she calls out again. “Coffee?”

“Sure. Thanks.” Charlie lets out a breath, picking up the phone to place his order. The buzzing stops, then starts again- texts, not a call he guesses. He’ll talk to Bella once she gets back from the kitchen. 

“A friend from school?” He asks at yet another buzzing noise, watching Bella over the rim of his steaming mug. The coffee is bitter, like he likes it, a much appreciated shock to the system- the sort the coffee at the station doesn’t come close to. 

Actually, the coffee at the station always leaves his mouth feeling unpleasantly fuzzy. He’s gonna have a talk with someone about that- A station needs proper coffee, goddamnit. 

Bella hums her agreement, giving him a hesitant smile. There is another buzz. “I’ve been hanging out with Jessica and Angela a lot.” She says. Charlie half expects her to elaborate, but she leaves it at that- not a fan of small talk any more than Charlie himself. 

Another buzz. At Charlie’s raised eyebrow Bella shrugs and laughs. “Jessica can be really insistent.” She says, reaching for her glass. She doesn’t reach for her phone once she places the glass back down. 

Bella isn’t a doormat, not a people pleaser- the sort that kisses up to popular girls in school. He nods to himself, pleased when yet another buzz of the phone goes ignored by her. 

Charlie snorts. He knows the Stanleys- though he hasn’t really gotten to know their daughter outside of the occasional run in, both of her parents had been a few grades below him in school. They’d certainly left an impression, and Jessica resembles her mother to a startling degree- well, the way she’d look back then. These days she looks like someone stuck her in a washing machine. 

“She a nice kid?” Charlie inquires casually, taking another sip of coffee. 

“She’s been really welcoming.” Bella offers, as though that’s supposed to mean anything. Charlie grumbles his approval nonetheless, figuring Bella looks happy enough. Far more happy than he had expected her to look, returning to Forks. 

Angela- that’s Father Weber’s kid. Charlie had seen her around once or twice, chasing her two younger brothers around. She seems the responsible sort with her glasses and shy smile. Charlie remembers her hiding behind a camera for all sorts of local events hosted by the Webers for some charity or other- if memory serves Father Weber had mentioned something about the school’s newspaper. 

It’s nice to see Bella getting along with local kids- girls her age. Charlie had worried a little, given that she’d rarely made mention of any friends over the years, certainly none that stuck. Unsurprising, what with the constant moving around. 

“Ah, your mother called.” He says, momentarily shaken out of his musings. Bella looks up from her food, swallowing her bite.

“Everything alright?” She asks, watching him. “Did she lose her charger?” 

“Her phone.” Charlie snorts, suppressing an eye roll. “She managed to find it though, and she’d like you to give her a call when you have the time.” 

Aro

Aro reclines in his seat, languidly stretching his legs as he watches the landscapes swooping past way down below, entirely too pleased with himself and his easy victory against Caius. 

He has managed to successfully convince his brother that he’d merely happened to be looking into some readily available information on vampires online when he stumbled upon something that had proven a little too  accurate for comfort- though perhaps convince is the wrong word; even after he had shown him the forum’s entrances on The Cold Ones Caius had thoroughly questioned his motives in conversing with one of the other users from that forum; citing it to be unhelpful and - more importantly - beneath  them. 

Fortunately he hadn’t tried to stop Aro from leaving to take a look at things himself; hardly one to let suspicions pass on by uninvestigated, especially not when it comes to certain more modern matters of which, in spite of Aro’s valiant efforts in teaching him, Caius is needlessly distrustful of already. 

In this case his apprehension works in Aro’s favour, he supposes gleefully. 

It is unusual, of course- for Aro to investigate such things himself. But then, there is hardly anyone more equipped for it than he is, is there? Caius, after a long discussion and Marcus’ blasé interference, had conceded as much. 

“Aro.” Renata says quietly. “The car has arrived at the airport. Someone will wait for us by the gates to hand over the keys.” 

“Bene.” Aro replies easily, confident in her ability to take care of these tedious matters for them both. She had insisted on accompanying him, after all. As had Caius.

Aro allows his eyes to flutter shut, revisiting his memory of that fateful phone call of theirs - Isabella’s nervous voice as she’d stuttered a quiet Hello?  Oh, she is a delight! He could practically hear her hastened heartbeat through the phone; had delighted in imagining it slowing ever so slightly as their conversation went on and she became more comfortable, picking up again whenever he uttered something edging on flirtations. He is very much looking forward to actually hearing her heartbeat, to taking in her scent and feel her hesitant touch - though to be perfectly honest he is a little nervous himself. She is, in his opinion, a very interesting girl; quick on the uptake, able to keep up with him and his particular brand of humor- but she would hardly be the first lover to disappoint him as time went on and their relationship became a little more physical .

On one hand he is very much looking forward to taking her hand in his, delving into her mind - on the other he had found being forced to figure her out without the help of the supernatural surprisingly enjoyable - not that he’d suddenly begun to desire a more human  relationship or - he dreads to think - lifestyle . No, he would happily leave that sort of folly to Carlisle and his strange coven. Family , as they apparently prefer to call it. But he has grown rather bored with his usual way of life, at least when it comes to relationships of the romantic variety, and Isabella looks to be a welcome change to that; a promising breath of fresh air.

Indeed, his relationship with Sulpicia has grown quite stale over the millennia, eventually ending in a fairly nasty divorce - regardless of the entire affair being unofficial by today’s standards due to a lack of the necessary paperwork; though her chucking the many rings he had collected for her over the centuries at him had - in his humble  opinion - been a rather clear message. He had sulked for a bit after, driving Caius up the wall in the process, but had eventually come to the conclusion that - while he did not exactly regret his time with her - he was rather glad for it to have run its natural course. 

He certainly did not elect to go out of his way to meet someone new to fill that role in his life. No, he truly had simply wanted to see what the humans were up to these days. He does rather enjoy a good bit of vampire media, and as it happens they happen to be rather trendy  again these days, what with the publications of certain books and movies- depicting vampires as vulnerable little creatures of the night who would just as soon seduce a beautiful woman as they would drink from her. 

Perhaps there is something to that notion after all, Aro thinks wryly. 

Even with his eyes closed he is aware of Renata’s sullen gaze on him as he chuckles quietly to himself, remembering the very first bits of media dedicated to them - the books, the movies; depicting them as flawed creatures with an array of rather silly weaknesses. He did have a lot of fun spreading those rumors back in the day; having to be invited in, not being able to cross flowing water. Garlic, crucifixes. Yes, those were the days - when humans thought themselves safe, protected by the little trinkets they collected. Aro still has a good chuckle each time one of them lifts a shaky hand to hold up a crucifix, thinking it might deter him somehow. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket and Aro’s eyes fly open, quickly pulling it out to see what Isabella has written. Disappointment fills him once he recognizes the number signalling this message to be a text from Sulpicia - informing him of her progress in Egypt. He thumbs through the message, reading it with only mild interest. 

Post more or less amicable separation they’d been faced with the issue of housing. After so many years spent at each other’s side, calling Volterra her home, Sulpicia had been at a loss for where to go. Though she certainly would not have admitted it out loud, and had valiantly tried to avoid touching Aro at all costs, he knows her well enough to understand that she, like him, has no business following the nomadic lifestyle so prevalent among their kind. Even as his former wife she would bear a target on her back; their enemies might even think their separation a farce, a ploy . 

So Aro had taken it upon himself to do the only sensible thing he could have done and sent her to his stronghold in Greece, allowing her to rule over the small arm of the coven residing there; thus enabling her to not lose face publicly and to remain reasonably protected in the process. 

One might say he had lost the divorce, and she had taken half of what was his. 

One would be wrong, of course  - the stronghold in Greece is in ruins, hardly measuring up to the intricate underground palace he has built beneath Volterra. It only serves as a sort of stakeout for the activities of the nearby covens, mainly the Egyptian one. Sulpicia had initially taken this arrangement as a slight against her, though she had agreed regardless, having no ground to argue. Insolent harpy, never satisfied . 

Aro grumbles quietly to himself as he types his answer, rolling his eyes at her snarky replies. Eventually he closes their conversation, switching instead to that of Isabella and himself; content to spend the rest of the flight rereading the genesis of their conversations, not that he has any need to - perfect recollection and all. But he does quite enjoy actually seeing the words on screen, a testament to Isabella’s affections. A sentimental fool , Caius would no doubt call him were he aware of this; huffing and puffing to no avail- as was his way. Of course, Caius himself - much as he may seek to deny it - has his own ever growing collection of sentimental items collected over the millennia. Letters sent back and forth between Athenodora and himself during his absences from the Palazzo, statues and oil paintings of his own creation- most of which depict either his beloved or himself, victorious in battle.

Aro too had always enjoyed to look at his brother’s creations- much as having a direct insight into his thoughts through the mere graze of a finger could provide him with all the information needed, to see the way he chooses  to depict both his beloved Athena and himself is still revealing in a way Aro could scarcely dismiss. He smiles to himself, staring at Isabella’s choice of avatar- the way she chooses to depict herself; a picture of the desert, the sky tinted in vibrant shades of blue, yellow and green above vividly orange sand. Home .

His phone vibrates again - Isabella this time, his fiore del deserto . Aro gleefully reads the new message, his smile widening of its own accord. 

✉1 𝖭𝖾𝗐 𝖬𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆: 𝖨𝗌𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺 

𝖧𝖾𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗉? 

Aro has no doubt that she is purposefully shooting for a casual tone. He knows her well enough by now to know she has likely spent some minutes agonizing over just what to say, settling for what she hopes will come across as a light conversational manner, rather than anything implying more investment  on her part.

𝖸𝖾𝗌, 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍 Aro answers- mimicking the colloquial tenor of her messages. Across from him, perched in her seat as though she is expecting to jump up any second now, Renata throws him a look. 

She does not approve of this trip, of course, but as his shadow she is familiar enough with his peculiarities to know that there is no use in giving voice to her misgivings. He has always remained firmly insistent upon leaving his seat of power every now and then to see whatever the world has to offer these days- sample the minds of mortal visionaries, so easily missed were he to remain locked away. 

“We shan’t stay long.” Aro says regardless, trying to appease her. 

Renata’s expression remains unimpressed. It is not her first time accompanying him on outings of a more private nature, purely meant to satisfy his curiosity. She has, as a result, been witness to a great many exchanges between Aro and some of the greatest artists, authors and scientists to walk this earth. 

She is rather unappreciative of that fact- were it up to her, Aro knows, he would never get to see the light of day, nor exchange ideas with those he deems worthy. He certainly would not be sitting on a flight across the Atlantic, visiting a human who has not even won a Pulitzer. 

✉2 𝖭𝖾𝗐 𝖬𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆: 𝖨𝗌𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺  

𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒?  

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇. 𝖦𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍. 

Aro sighs. He wishes he could simply be honest with her - Tell her that sleep is no issue and that she can reach him whenever she might like to; he certainly regrets divulging his location more or less accurately. At the time he hadn’t thought anything of it - now he wishes he had had the foresight to tell her that he was at the very least native to the same time-zone as her. Then again he had made it a point not to lie to her outright; choosing to carefully edit his own word choice when conversing but - for the most part - sticking strictly to the truth whenever feasible.

𝖨’𝖽 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗍. He replies, hoping she’ll accept his decision. She had once asked him if he suffers from insomnia or something  and he had confirmed, supposing it is close enough to the truth. Yes, chronic insomnia the likes of which the world has never seen - nearly four millennia spent upright. Mostly. 

𝖶𝗁𝗒?

𝖨 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖳𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗒, 𝖻𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗂𝗇𝖺.      

𝖧𝖺𝗁, 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖿𝗎𝗅. 𝖠𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 - 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝖨 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾.  

𝖠𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾. 

Aro raises a brow, curiosity coursing through him like blood through a human's veins. Isabella is not one to complain he’d gathered, even in the short time they’d known each other she’d made it a point not to speak ill of others. It was so very rare an occurrence for her to be truly irritated.

𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇, 𝖨𝗌𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺? he writes, already to anticipating her huffy reply. 

𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖡𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺, 𝖨 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 

Aro smirks to himself at her attempt of evasion, quickly typing his own reply.

𝖠𝗁, 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽. 𝖳𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾. 

Bella types for a long while, but doesn’t send an answer. Eventually the typing stops - though no message is sent. Aro licks his lips, intrigued despite himself. What could possibly have happened that she struggled to put into words now? She must truly be upset then, he muses. 

𝖯𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾, 𝖻𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗂𝗇𝖺 - 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌. 𝖳𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽, 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋-𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀.  

A moment passes, but then her incessant typing ceases and a message is sent. 

✉1 𝖭𝖾𝗐 𝖬𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆: 𝖨𝗌𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺  

𝖯𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖨’𝗆 𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 

𝖠𝗇𝖽? 𝖨 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝗎𝗅𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇?      

𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒.      

𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐? 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺𝖼𝗒?        

𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨’𝗆 𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝖨 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍.      

𝖨 𝗌𝖾𝖾. 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾? 

The reply comes a little late- hesitant. 𝖨’𝗆 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾. 

Curious. It would seem Isabella doesn’t want to say the words - certainly they suspect their relationship to be of a romantic nature, and they would be entirely right to. Though perhaps Isabella herself does not yet see it that way? 

What can I do to help? Aro writes after a moment, suddenly fearing the worst. What if she decides not to meet him after all? Well, it wouldn’t keep him from seeing her anyway - but then, he does quite like the thought of her looking forward to their meeting just as much as he is; certainly this is preferable to the alternative. 

✉3 𝖭𝖾𝗐 𝖬𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆: 𝖨𝗌𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺  

𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒.  

𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒’𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌.  

𝖲𝗈, 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎? 𝖧𝗈𝗐’𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀? 

𝖵𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎.  

𝖨 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗅𝗒. 

Aro frowns at his phone. He had planned on waiting a little before seeing Isabella so that he may visit Carlisle and his infamous coven first. It has been quite some time since he has seen his dear old friend in person, not to mention the family he has built over the years. Not once has he visited Volterra after the creation of his own coven- an usual decision, considering it is bad etiquette not to introduce those sired by a friend of the Volturi to them; and perhaps even more importantly the laws they enforce. 

Curiously Carlisle did seem to find the time to visit a wide array of other friends of his. 

Of course, Aro has no scruple gaining insight through these friends. And it certainly is paying off now that he is on his way to Washington, seeing as Carlisle’s daughter Alice, who just so happens to be blessed with the gift of clemency, may have already foreseen him coming to Forks to visit a girl she might very well know from school. She would likely warn her family in advance then, which means it is only fair that Aro would know what he is walking into as well.

Then again, poor Isabella seems to have had a stressful day, and Aro would prefer to spend his valuable time lifting her spirits over confronting Carlisle and his acolytes. 

Still, to go to Forks without so much as announcing his presence - regardless of how unnecessary such courtesies are considering the Cullens’ talents as well as their own discourteous behaviour toward Aro and his brothers - is, at the very least, a display of appallingly horrid manners which the Cullens may well be accustomed to but are quite beneath him; something Aro simply cannot abide.

In any case he would much prefer going to see Isabella immediately upon his arrival in Forks. Perhaps, Aro muses, he should have been more clear with his intentions - though he had feared that a more forward approach to things might scare Isabella off; he didn’t want to come on too strong , especially considering how easily she could cut him off while they were still restricted to communication via text messages. 

No, this is a delicate operation, requiring both sensibility and patience. Aro will need to pace himself somewhat. He is a patient man.

Edward

Edward sits perched on a thick branch, staring at nothing in particular. Bella has a boyfriend . Or an almost-nearly-soon-to-be-boyfriend. This would, in itself, not be an issue; in fact, it’s a good  thing. Great, even. His obsession with her has been rapidly increasing these past weeks, he had - despite his best efforts - started to like her. Stalk  her, like a predator would his prey. That first day in biology had been a close call; he’d barely managed to stop himself from killing her and their classmates right then and there, and even now being in close proximity with her is horrifyingly tempting - the sweetest torture he’d ever endured. 

But Bella deserves better than him. She deserves to be with someone who doesn’t think about killing her just as much as kissing her, someone who can build a life with her, someone who will grow old with her - someone human . 

Bella has a boyfriend, and Edward is glad  - because the alternative is entirely impossible. She can’t be with him, couldn’t ever possibly be his. So he swallows his jealousy like bitter medicine, each time she looks down on her phone and smiles, each time her eyes lose focus as she stares off into the distance, daydreaming. He swallows his anger, and offers his smile in return.

Bella has a boyfriend, and Edward can’t be openly bitter about it. But then, he can’t trust  him, can he? This man who is dating a girl as young as she is - a fellow predator, seeking to use her and drop her once he’s finished with her. 

Bella has a boyfriend and that’s fine , but not this one. Any other boy from school would’ve been better, though Edward is well aware that none of them are good enough for Bella. But this one in particular, Edward tells himself, would not suffice. It is entirely necessary, he thinks, that he continues to watch over her. To stay close, in case this man tries anything with her. To check his thoughts, to make sure she’s safe - It is for her sake, he tells himself, that he sits there now, perched in a tree, watching her house. 

He lets his head hit the tree trunk, closing his eyes while he listens to the sound of two steady heartbeats. Every now and then he’ll hear a giggle, and each time his still heart aches. For just a moment he allows himself to picture himself in the place of this faceless man, making Bella laugh like that. Smile like that. Dream like that. But it only serves to make his heart ache more. Edward grits his teeth, angry at Carlisle, himself and the world, and a little angry at Bella, too. He tries not to be - she didn’t do anything wrong. 

So why is it that it hurts so much?

Eventually, when the sounds inside cease and Bella is asleep Edward dares to move from his spot in the tree, standing beneath her window indecisively. He’d climbed in a few times since meeting her to watch her sleep. A shameful secret he didn’t dare to share with anyone at the time, something he would have berated anyone else for - stalker behavior that spoke ill of his intentions to anyone looking in from the outside. 

He’d felt the need to satisfy his strange fascination with the girl in any way possible, tried to explain his behavior away that way - but his conscience is anything but clear regarding this matter. It does feel deeply wrong to do so at times, while at the same time feeling oddly right . It doesn’t feel right now though - to sneak into her room, knowing that her heart is set on another. 

Edward sighs softly, willing the ache in his chest to cease. He doesn’t have a decisive plan when it comes to Bella, doesn’t know where this is going or how far he is willing to take it. She won’t be staying in Forks for much longer, and neither will he and his family. Part of him wants to follow her, to watch over her for the rest of her life if only to make sure that she won’t end up in some kind of accident, seeing as she is rather prone to them. 

But Bella misses the sun. She’ll undoubtedly move somewhere sunny soon, go to college and go about her life, and all Edward could hope to do then is to leave his family behind and watch over her at night, just as he is doing now. But if things progress… If she does get a boyfriend, no matter who it is, he isn’t certain he could take listening in on them like this. Isn’t certain he won’t wind up interfering somehow, once the jealousy has eaten away at him long enough. 

He heaves another sigh at the thought. Bella isn’t his, not at all, and she’ll never be. Unless he makes her his. Takes her with him, changes her or has Carlisle change her for him, like he did Emmett for Rosalie. But Bella wouldn’t want that, and Edward couldn’t possibly do that to her; rip her away from everything she loves for his own selfish reasons. He couldn’t doom her soul, couldn’t hurt her like that if it meant she’d regret ever setting eyes on him. 

Perhaps he could check up on her. Cement himself in her life as a friend, and when they eventually move apart he’d get to check in on her every now and then via calls and letters. Perhaps then he could imagine her smiling and giggling at his texts, albeit entirely platonically, on her end at least. 

He nods to himself, having finally made a decision, before he takes off again, running through the forest. The burning in his throat slowly calms down as her scent leaves him, though the ache in his heart only worsens as the distance between them grows. 

If only I was human , he thinks bitterly. If only I weren’t a monster. Then I could be right for her. I would-  He stops cold in his tracks, having reached the house, but something isn’t quite right. He takes a few deep breaths, scenting the air - Vampires . He can hear the foreign thoughts, a jumble of different languages, some of which he is unfamiliar with. He slowly makes his way toward the house, focussing on the familiar thoughts of his family instead. Visitors . 

The Volturi . 

He quickly breaks out into a sprint, rushing to join his family. They haven’t broken any rules, so this must be a friendly visit to Carlisle. Still, the Volturi aren’t known for friendly check-ins. Then again, they aren’t known for making many friends on the outside; Carlisle is special in that sense. Edward opens the main door, rushing into the living room only to find Aro and Renata sat on the sofa surrounded by his family, engaging in idle chatter - though the tension in the room is palpable even now. At least it seems to be just the two of them, which gives at least some credence to his friendly visit  theory. 

“Edward!” Alice greets him, “I’ve been trying to reach you-”

“My phone died.” Edward mutters apologetically, pointedly taking it out of his pocket and plugging the charger in. “Hello.” he says, nodding at Aro and his silent companion. Aro merely smiles, inclining his head in return before resuming his conversation with Carlisle- something about local wildlife Edward barely pays any mind to. His thoughts are still spinning, his heart still aching, and Aro’s suspiciously sudden appearance is doing little in terms of easing his tension.

“Why are they here?” Edward asks Alice after a moment, aware that they can hear him in spite of his hushed tones.

“They had business in the area, thought they’d drop in to check on Carlisle.” Alice supplies, guiding him to sit down with her. He remains upright, standing close to her. She seems remarkably calm, considering the circumstances. Regardless of Carlisle’s friendship with Aro he had avoided Volterra in the past, ever since he’d founded this coven- specifically for their sake. Though he adores Aro - for whatever reason, Edward hadn’t ever quite understood - he had known even then that there are certain dangers associated with collecting talented vampires. Of course, the accumulation of gifts within their family had been pure happenstance- Carlisle had never purposefully sought talented vampires like some others do, but parading them around in front of Aro had never been an option. And now he is here, sitting in their living room, holding idle small talk. Or not so idle small talk. 

While his words speak of no ill intent whatsoever his thoughts are guarded, mostly using ancient languages Edward does not speak, likely in an attempt to hide… something. Edward watches him closely, suspicion coiling his stomach into tight knots. 

“Yes.” Aro speaks up from the other side of the room then, giving Carlisle a grin that could cut, all teeth. “See Carlisle, when you left us, I expected you to at least drop by every once in a while - and yet here we are, and a century has passed without so much as a visit. You’ve never introduced us to your family, hence I thought I might as well take it upon myself to right that wrong.” 

“I’m sorry, old friend.” Carlisle says sheepishly, dropping his gaze to the floor. Outwardly he looks a little chastised at best, mildly sorry, but Edward knows his hidden fears as well as he knows the back of his hand. Aro has a nasty habit of taking talented vampires from their covens, and Carlisle hadn’t been keen to show up to Volterra with him, Alice and Jasper in tow - showing off talents Aro would no doubt like to add to his collection. The monarch in question merely smiles again, all teeth.

“It’s all in the past now.” he says congenially, clasping his hands together. “I see you’ve been quite busy. Though I do expect you to visit in the future, now that this initial hang up has been dealt with.”

“Of course.” Carlisle says softly, nodding. Edward knits his brows, concentrating on Aro’s thoughts - though it is rather useless. Aro is thinking in foreign languages still, switching between them seemingly at random. Evading him. But why? What is he planning? Certainly Carlisle’s worries are not without reason after all, there is without a doubt something Aro doesn’t wish to share with them, despite his polite invitation .

“How long do you plan to stay?” Edward asks bluntly, finally sinking into the seat next to Alice - a placating smile on his lips to soften the blow of his words. His family’s thoughts still reprimand him for being so forward, Rosalie’s especially, though she, too, would really like to know. Out of everyone, she is the one most uncomfortable with their guests - or rather, people outside of the family in general. Apart from Jasper, of course, whose thoughts have been nothing short of busy running through possible outcomes of this conversation, strategizing . Edward finds himself grateful for that now- another vigilant eye, not so easily fooled by harmless pleasantries. 

“A while.” Aro says vaguely, shrugging his shoulders. “There are still more things that need seeing to.” 

Edward stills in his seat as a stray thought registers with him, though Aro immediately tries to conceal it. Too late. “Bella.” Edward whispers, stunned for a few seconds before the need to crouch and growl rushes through him, protectiveness gripping him like a vice. 

“Bella?” Alice echoes, looking at Edward for just a moment before turning to Aro, her eyes growing unfocused as she begins her search for any decisions he might’ve made. 

Aro chuckles softly, his grin stretching his face even further. “I was wondering how long I might be able to hide it from you- all things considered I’d say I didn’t do too bad. Though I can certainly empathise with your family on this, young Edward - It is so very difficult to keep secrets from you.” He tilts his head slightly, clasping his hands together again. “No matter. Yes, I am indeed here to visit a dear friend of mine. Young Isabella - whom you know from school, yes? How you manage to trudge through the monotony of repeatedly enrolling in High School I shall never understand.”

“It’s you .” Edward says, dismissing his shallow efforts at evasion. “The man she’s been texting.” He’s older , Bella’s words ring through Edward’s mind. That’s one way to put it. You could be a serial killer for all I know . 

Care to find out?  Had been his reply. Edward grits his teeth at the memory, staring Aro down fiercely.

“Wait- what?” Rosalie cuts in, at the same time as Emmett’s eyes grow wide before succumbing to loud harrowing fits of laughter, “He’s Batman?” He nearly shouts, prompting a raised eyebrow from Aro, who looks confused for a mere second before a fond grin stretches his lips instead- apparently quite pleased with the nickname Bella has chosen to give him.

“What do you want from her?” Edward hisses, his entire body growing even more tense. 

“Nothing sinister, I assure you. I merely find the girl to be quite interesting and should like to meet her. I shan’t reveal our secret to her, of course - she is safe with me.” 

“No.” Edward grits out, “Stay away from her.” 

“Edward.” Carlisle reprimands softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Edward is painfully aware of its weight as he is gently held in place; effectively stopped from acting out. Carlisle is looking out for him, he always is- but his thoughts are jumbled and fail to act as the grounding force Edward so desperately needs. “Aro, as your friend I must ask you not to hunt in this area as it could easily compromise us, you understand. Isabella is the chief’s daughter, her sudden disappearance would pose our family a great risk.”

“Oh, of course - I wouldn’t even dream of it. However, your son hardly holds any authority over me I’m afraid. Isabella has agreed to meet me, and thus she shall. I will have no further discussion on the matter.” 

“She agreed to meet someone . Not you- she doesn’t know you .” Edward argues, hot fury burning at his core like wildfire once more. Carlisle’s grip on his shoulder tightens and his own hand shoots up to grab ahold of Carlisle’s and tear it off if need be. He manages to lay his hand atop of his father’s before Aro’s tutting stops him in his tracks. 

“See, I was afraid you’d be difficult about this, young Edward. I suppose I have no choice then but to bring up your treaty with the shapeshifters then.” He sighs, as if to say I was hoping we could avoid this before turning to face Carlisle again. “As you are well aware, Carlisle, Caius would be very curious about this pack you have chosen to befriend. How you have managed to do so is beyond me, though you have always been quite apt at making friends in strange places, have you not?” He gives another carefree chuckle that makes Edward vibrate with rage. “Regardless, I shan’t speak a word of it to him, so long as you keep your distance while I socialize with dear Isabella.”

“Aro, my dear friend, you know my character well enough to know that I cannot stand by in good conscience if you plan to harm the girl.” Carlisle says quietly, though his thoughts seem rather willing to hold back if it means the survival of his coven and the pack - Bella is not his priority. Edward growls, held back only by the firm hand grasping his shoulder. 

Though he doesn’t say as much there is a knowing look etched into Aro’s features- having taken Carlisle’s hands many a time, he would be just as aware of Carlisle’s thoughts as Edward is. 

“Isabella shan’t be harmed, of course. I merely wish to speak to her.” He repeats regardless, placating the part of Carlisle that would’ve felt it necessary to interfere- however small it may have been to begin with. 

Aro may fool his old friend, trusting as Carlisle is, but Edward doesn’t believe him for a second. 

“Why? ” Rosalie speaks up, unable to hold herself back any longer. Her thoughts are filled with unfounded envy of the mousy girl  once again. Edward throws her a glare in response. 

Of course she wouldn’t appreciate someone like Bella, whose beauty is far more complex than the obvious sort Rosalie herself is endowed with and thus tends to favour. 

Her face isn’t as symmetrical as those of their kind; the artificial beauty they’ve been equipped with, like a scorpion’s deadly stinger. Where their beauty is designed to lure, Bella’s beauty lies solely in its lack of ambiguity; its plain honesty. 

Rendered only more open and vulnerable by sleep. 

“She is fascinating.” Aro answers Rosalie’s inquiry, a smile gracing his lips then that is much softer than the one he’d worn before, agitating Edward more than any of his more threatening gestures possibly could. “Though I hardly need to give you a reason, do I? I am consulting you out of courtesy, though as you well know I shan’t be dissuaded by you.” He looks at both Carlisle and Edward then, daring them to contradict him.

Fascinating. 

Edward involuntarily remembers Bella’s earlier words - Charming. Suave. Educated. Fascinating .

I’ve never had the kind of conversations I’ve had with him with anyone she had said, and Edward had seen in her eyes that she was utterly and thoroughly lost to this guy, whether she’d wanted to admit it or not.

Carlisle pats Edward’s shoulder. “Alright.” he sighs. “We won’t interfere, so long as you keep your promise and the girl remains unharmed. She is the chief’s daughter-”

“Yes, I am aware.” Aro says, smiling - pleased to have gotten his way once again. Edward bites back on any words trying to make their way up his throat, his jaw tightly clenched. He can’t openly oppose him, can’t risk a fight breaking out, at least - not with Renata present. She’s watching the exchange wearily, eyes darting back and forth between them, one hand on Aro’s shoulder at all times. Even if he were to wait for the right moment, killing Aro isn’t a good idea - he is still preferable to Caius and Marcus, if only he hadn’t set his gaze on Bella of all people. 

She really does have a way of getting into trouble even in the most mundane of situations. Online dating - of course she’d  manage to come across the likes of him. And it’d been because of Edward - she’d met Aro because she’d been researching, trying to figure out what he  is. It’s his fault then, that she now finds herself confronted with the ruler of his world. 

“Well. Since this issue has been dealt with I shall take my leave. I’m certain we’ll see more of one another during my stay here.” Aro smiles, already getting up with the dismissive wave of a hand. Renata follows him, moving like an extension of him rather than a separate being, a well studied dance between the two. "Ta-Ta." Aro sing-songs gleefully, gliding past Edward who gulps down another growl.

Bella

Bella wakes in the middle of the night, having kicked her blanket off the bed to god knows where, freezing in the cold night air. She hugs herself tightly, rubbing her hands over the goosebumps on her arms for a moment, pulling her knees all the way up to her chest - mentally preparing to move and look for her blanket. It takes another moment for her to successfully convince herself to move, bleary eyes and stiff from the cold, clambering over to the side of the bed. She leans over the edge, spotting the blanket there- on the ground. She pulls it up by one lapel, groaning quietly at the effort it takes to get herself situated properly again. 

She settles back into bed, wrapped into a tight burrito, when she notices the dryness of her mouth. Annoyed she sits back up, lazily reaching out a hand to pat along her nightstand, looking for her glass of water- she finds it, briefly, before she sends it tumbling down. It lands on the carpet with a quiet thud . 

For a long moment, Bella doesn’t move. Then she sighs, throwing the blanket off to the side again and setting a foot onto the floor- right into the wet patch on the carpet. 

“Ugh.” She mutters, irately rubbing at her eyes. The little clock on the nightstand reads 03:47am. “Great.” She whispers to herself, cringing at the feeling of her toes squelching on the wet carpet. “I’m awake.” She tells the room at large accusatorily, bowing down to pick up the glass. It isn’t broken, at least. 

Bella waddles through the dark room, one hand stretched out, looking for the door handle, slowly making her way to the bathroom. She refills her cup, careful to avoid the old creaking floorboard so as not to accidentally wake Charlie - regardless of the fact that the man sleeps like a bear in the very deepest of winters - and trudges back into her room. 

Remember not to step into - her sluggish mind supplies, just as the tips of her toes make contact with the icy wet patch again. Bella groans quietly, wondering what she did to deserve any of this. She settles back into bed, quickly emptying her cup. Worth it , she thinks, greedily gulping down the cool water and feeling refreshed immediately- water simply has a way of tasting that much better at 3am; elevated to the divine. 

But now she is awake, thoroughly  awake. 

Nearly on reflex she reaches for her phone, thumbing at the buttons - just checking. 𝖭𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌.  Aro isn’t listed as online, and he’s been travelling which ought to tire even him out somewhat. Still, on the off chance that me might  be awake- 

𝖬𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀? She writes, feeling utterly silly. 

She doesn’t expect an answer. She expects her phone to ring even less, the shrill little jingle startling her, cutting through the silence of the room. Bella yelps, quickly pressing accept to silence it before it dawns on her that that means she’s going to have to say… something.

“Hello?” She whispers, nervously eyeing her bedroom door. 

“Isabella?” Aro whispers back, his voice slightly distorted through the speaker, and all at once Bella is hit with the memory of her dream- his voice in her ear, whispering her name seductively. <em>Isabella</em>. “Do you find yourself unable to sleep?” 

“I- yes, I uh, hope I didn’t wake you.” She murmurs, satisfied when the door to her room remains closed, the house still completely silent but for her own hushed whispers and the sound of rain outside. 

“Of course. In fact, I just arrived at my destination.”

“Oh!” Bella whispers sheepishly, nervous fingers drumming a pattern on her bare leg. “I won’t keep you then, you must be exhausted.” 

“I slept on the way here.” Aro replies smoothly- a lie, and an obvious one at that, but Bella finds herself smiling regardless. She tries to imagine him sprawled on a hotel bed somewhere, dressed in pyjamas, smiling as well. It’s hard to picture, not knowing what he looks like… Bella imagines him to have olive skin and thick, curly hair the shade of coffee beans. One of those big Roman noses, the ones that look majestic no matter which way you look at them. She imagines warm brown eyes, and an easy smile, the body of a Greek statue- Oh god. Stop it .

She’s taking this too far- imagining him as some kind of Ardonis. And yet, somehow, Aro being any less pretty than, say, the Cullens is somehow inconceivable to her. It’s because of his voice, Bella thinks. Because it sounds just as melodic and smooth- whispering her name in the dead of night . Bella wonders idly what it would sound like if he were to-

“Isabella? Have I lost you to sleep?” Aro whispers, amusement tinting his tone. 

“No!” Bella squeaks- a little too loudly perhaps. “I’m here.” She adds, more quietly. He doesn’t sound tired at all, she notes, laughing quietly to himself as her cheeks grow hot, burning in the dark. 

“Well, bambina . How may I be of assistance? Shall I perhaps stay on the line with you, until sleep finds you?”

“You… you would do that?” Bella whispers, pulling the blankets a little tighter around herself. Staying on the phone until she sleeps- that’s decidedly romantic, isn’t it? Not something a friend had ever done for her, at least. Not that she’d ever wanted them to. Not like she wants  Aro.

She shivers slightly, vague memories of her dream resurfacing. 

“Of course. I would be more than happy to.” Aro answers, and Bella can easily make out the smile in his voice. Her stomach tightens pleasantly, her heart racing in her chest, her head strangely light. “Allow me, then-” Aro says softly, his feathery voice drifting through the quiet room, “to tell you the invigorating tale of a book I picked up on the plane.” 

Bella really only listens with one ear as he delves into his recounting of some young adult dystopian novel, critiquing the flat characterisation of the villain, who he  believes actually had the right idea all along- No, Bella’s mind goes no further than enjoying the sound of his voice, the way his accent curls around certain words, the way she can imagine him gesturing wildly whenever the choices of the main protagonist prompt a particularly exasperated comment from him. 

Every now and then she’ll try to reign herself in a little, but she can’t help the way her mind begins to bombard her with all kinds of random notions- when she sees him tomorrow, will he shake her hand? Envelop her in a hug? Kiss her on either cheek? Or… on the lips? Bella’s breath catches, her mouth suddenly dry again. She eyes the empty glass on the nightstand mournfully; Aro’s voice in her ear, and his lips on her mind.

“I can’t wait to see you.” 

The words leave her lips before she can stop them, and Bella stills, hoping against all odds that Aro was too busy with the retelling of his book to have heard her properly- but he falls quiet, the idiotic side plot about the main character’s long lost sibling forgotten for now. 

“Neither can I.” He says, so softly Bella almost thinks she might’ve imagined it. 

Renata 

Renata worries for her Master; it is her duty, a vice and - as Demetri and Felix tend to joke - her favorite pastime. 

“Master.” She whispers for the upteenth time that night, not exactly expecting but still hoping for a reply. He had asked her to stir clear for the night; had gone as far as to book separate rooms for them in the Olympic Lodge that would temporarily serve as their new base operandi. 

Renata has yet to bother setting foot in her room on the other side of the complex. Instead she remains standing right by Aro’s door, only deserting the hallway for the occasional bypassing neighbor. 

“Master.” She repeats yet again. “It is urgent.” She adds, nearly hissing the words beneath her breath. He had been on the phone for a while, and Renata hadn’t dared to disturb him while he spoke to this girl he’d come to admire so much, but now that the girl is sound asleep and Aro has fallen silent she hopes-

A sound behind the door interrupts her line of thought.

She can hear his movement long before his hand touches the door handle; the soft squeaking of his fine leather shoes, the material of his trousers and the sound of metal on metal as his hand - decorated with several intricate pieces of jewellery - pushes down the door handle and allows her passage into the room he occupies.

“Renata.” He greets her, dark eyes fixed on her the moment the door opened wide enough for her likeness to appear before him, “I believe my instructions were clear.” 

“Master.” Renata replies, bowing deeply before him. “I am with offense.” She says earnestly, aware that Aro does not appreciate her eavesdropping on his private matters. Given her unofficial status as his shadow and his ability to unfurl her mind the concept of privacy between the two of them is a vague one however, and Renata trusts that he knows that she merely seeks proximity while holding no interest in that which is not meant for her eyes and ears specifically.

Aro pauses, considering her. Renata does not lift her head to meet his gaze. Eventually Aro turns on his heel and strides back into his room. He does not close the door behind himself, and Renata chooses to interpret this as permission to follow. 

“Tell me then. What matter is so urgent that you feel it necessary to ignore direct orders?”

“Aro.” Renata whispers. Rather than explaining herself she merely reaches out for his hand, which he graciously allows her to grasp in hers. Her thoughts begin to circle, a constant murmur of worries. 

Wolves, she thinks. You mentioned wolves. If there are children of the moon nearby, allow me to stay by your side- to guard you properly. I want to stay by your side-

“My dear Renata.” Aro says, petting her hand. His expression softens slightly as he regards her; disapproval giving way to fondness once more. “There are no children of the moon at large here.”

But-

“Shapeshifters,” he explains calmly. “No more lethal than, say, an enemy nomad of our kind. Claws and teeth sharp enough to harm us, but rest assured my dear; entirely harmless when compared to their humanoid counterparts.”

“The Olympic coven has formed an alliance with them.” Renata mutters, scarcely able to even picture such a foreign concept had it not been Aro who suggested it in the first place. “How could such an alliance have come to be? Surely the only thing worth forming a bond over would be a share adversary-”

“Do not worry yourself over them, Renata. A contract was formed, and as visitors of the Cullen’s designated territory we need not fear the wolves' interference in our dealings. I have combed through the memories relating to the pact thoroughly, and no mention of us was made.”

“If a pact was made between the two others could follow. If they band together in order to destroy you-”

“Renata-”

“-and you continue to give them an opening by keeping me at arms length in order to humor this human girl you so adore-”

“Renata.” Aro repeats, more firmly this time. Renata treads on thin ice bringing her up, she knows this well. “Were your opinion on these matters of interest to me I would have inquired after it. As it happens I am not interested in your verdict in the slightest. Kindly keep these thoughts to yourself for now.”

“Master,” Renata mutters, the proverbial ice cracking beneath her feet.  “Master, if you continue to act thusly I shall have no choice but to inform-”

“Do you think it wise to threaten me, Renata?” Aro gives a deep chuckle, eyes alight with something humorous… but there is danger lurking beneath. 

Renata knows that look well, but cannot back down now- he will see reason, if only she can get her point across. “Master Caius would not care to discern between the children of the moon and these shape shifters you described. Even less so should he learn that a pact was formed between their kind and our own. And if he were to learn that you knew of this-”

“A fair assessment, though unasked for nonetheless. His predictable outrage is precisely why he shall not learn of this matter just yet.” Aro leans a little closer, eyeing Renata with an expression that could be interpreted as being conspiratorial, though the unspoken threat in his gaze lingers.

Are you with me or against me, it says.

“All I’m asking you is to allow me to stay close in these foreign territories so unlike the ones we are used to. For your own safety… and that of the girl. You said yourself the Cullen boy’s obsession with her could further escalate; I can be of use Master. Allow me to accompany you on your outings-”

“No.” He dismisses her with the wave of a hand. “My decision is final, Renata.”

Renata falls silent, staring at his raised hand. Her mouth presses shut, her eyes grow into slits. He does not usually forbid her from executing her duty. 

Renata balls her hands into fists at her sides, 

She could never be angry at him. Never, not truly, not in a million years. And so the feeling churning in the upper regions of her stomach now is not anger- the need to stomp her foot and scream, to cling to him and dig her nails into his arm; it is not anger that drives her. A fierce protectiveness, a sense of urgency and perhaps a tiny sliver of upset. 

Yes, it upsets her deeply, that he would stop her from fulfilling her purpose. That he would take her along to these foreign lands and forbid her from performing that which is expected of her. 

Edward

Edward had debated going to great lengths in order to mask his scent at least temporarily, so there would be no evidence of his presence later. He had considered covering himself in tree sap, various greenage and fur- but there is no point in trying to conceal himself from Aro. 

He will take his hand, and he will know that Edward disobeyed his command. Well, technically he hasn’t- he isn’t technically interfering with Aro’s plans by being here. 

Still, he does not dare approach the tiny Swan house just yet, stuck instead several yards behind its hind side. He cannot see her room from here, only some bits and pieces of the tree in front of her window by the right side of the house. For a moment, he simple stands there- eyes glued to the house. 

It is small and somewhat shabby looking- a simple home, not meant to impress but to shelter. It reflects either one of the Swan’s straightforward attitudes, Edward muses to himself. Looking at the house a stranger might well get a good grasp of who it is that lives here- a fisherman, clearly, going by some of the items leaning against the wooden walls of the house’s backyard. A policeman, as is evident from the police cruiser parked out front. And a teenager, old enough to drive but not yet old enough to afford a new car. 

Very slowly, Edward begins to approach the side of the house. The small tree growing here. Edward wonders idly how old it might be- he marvels at its strange placement. 

He knows Chief Swan to be a cautious man; the sort who has seen too much to be too trusting. The kind of man who puts pepper spray into his daughter’s bag. Yet he had allowed for her to sleep in a room so easily accessible for any who might wish to enter. 

The tree that grows directly next to Bella’s window- were Bella more like her friends, a little more prone to rebelling against her father, she may have climbed down this tree to sneak off with someone. A boy, most likely. Or perhaps it would have served as an alternate point of entry for said boy to sneak into her room at night.

Of course Edward doesn’t need to climb trees in order to enter her room. He could climb these walls with ease and without a sound. Still, he imagines that for her he would’ve put on a show of climbing the tree and making his way over to her window, enveloping her in his arms the moment he would reach her- like a knight climbing the endlessly high walls of a tower from which he shall free the princess with her long hair… 

Edward quite likes the way Bella uses her hair as a barricade between her and others sometimes. The way she hides behind it when she blushes, and plays with it when she is nervous. He likes that she brushes it behind her ear as she laughs, and absentmindedly blows it out of her face whenever a strand falls where it shouldn’t and tickles her nose. 

Though he made no conscious choice to move Edward now finds himself in the tree, her tree, which still hasn’t been felled. Bella, who is a lover of the classics, certainly knows her fairy tales, doesn’t she? What is this then, if not an invitation? A bean stock for him to climb and reach heaven- one she would’ve long gotten rid of if there wasn’t some part of her who eagerly awaited the day a boy would climb it. 

Not to do anything untoward- a romantic gesture, perhaps. To climb the tree and hand over flowers and her favorite chocolates, or exchange a quick secret kiss beneath the shimmering moonlight. Perhaps he could hide a letter in it, or a gift- a book, something involving a tree just like this one. It would forever be a fond memory for them then- how he climbed the tree to get to her, how it served them on numerous occasion, as a vessel for secret shows of love. 

Climbing up the side of it a little further Bella's small bedroom window comes into view, and with it a sliver of skin visible from the angle Edward is perched at. He had expected her there, lying in bed still, in the wee hours of the morning. Peaceful, unaware of the danger she is in. For once , it is not Edward she should be scared of but the man lurking the shadows elsewhere, waiting for a chance to be this close to her. Aro must be scheming even now; perfecting whatever mask he will wear when meeting Bella, face to face. Though she is observant, Bella is too naïve to know his mask for what it is.

Sighing deeply, Edward presses the tips of his fingers against her window pane for a moment, yearning to be closer still. To warn her, somehow, of the dangers to come. The old wooden frame doesn't require much convincing, the window opens easily beneath his gentle touch. the sleeping beauty that awaits him, resting a little further off to the side beneath a small heap of various blankets, does not stir at his intrusion. She is unused to the rain, the cold- she'd mentioned as much to him, on that fateful day they'd first shared a table in biology. Edward hurriedly pulls the window shut behind himself, not wanting to risk poor Bella catching at cold. 

Though perhaps that would not be so bad, would it? Perhaps, if she were to fall ill, he would have a reason to come visit during daytime. He could take notes for her, bring over her homework. He could offer to study with her, make sure she doesn't fall back in class. He could go downstairs and make soup or tea. He could place a cool hand on her burning flesh and she wouldn't flinch back, revolted by his icy temperature. Perhaps she would tell Aro then, that she sadly cannot meet up with him after all for fear of passing on that which ails her. She'd politely excuse herself, and wish him all the best on his travels back to Italy. 

Edward is not fool enough to believe that Aro would leave so easily... but he had said that, should Bella decide against meeting him, he would accept her wishes. And if she were ill.. well, Aro certainly is needed in Volterra. Patient as he may be, he could not wait this out, not here anyway. And if he left, if Bella were given something else to focus on, perhaps she would simply stop writing him. Perhaps she would forget she ever was interested in meeting him. 

Bella, mere inches away from him, makes a sound. Talking in her sleep. Something about a party, he gathers, which must be part of her dream. Edward can scarcely remember what it is like to dream, and the pale imitation of it he gathers from being near slumbering humans does not satisfy his yearning in the slightest. This is not so with her. Watching Bella prattle on about this supposed garden party, slurred words and all, is nothing short of riveting. 

He simply cannot bring himself to miss a single moment of the marvel that is she, dreaming, even as a bit of drool begins to collect in the corner of her mouth and starts its slow descend downward toward her pillow. 

Like any teenaged girl she might have been embarrassed had she known that he had seen her like this- and how could she possible know, how could she understand, just how meaningful a moment this is to him? Edward's fingers twitch with the need to bring a tissue to her lips and ease her worry. He dearly wishes he could tell her just how beautiful she looks in this moment, unguarded, uninhibited. Vulnerable. In need of protection from the monster lurking the shadows outside. Would it count as interreference on his part should he, on his way out, simply forget to close the window? 

Edward nearly jumps out of his own skin when his phone begins to vibrate in his pocket. Swiftly, he fishes it out of its confines and silences it, taking note of the caller ID taking up the small screen. Alice. 

She must've seen what he was contemplating. 

Edward gazes at Bella, still sleeping though the sound of his phone going off had roused her somewhat- she'd changed position now, turned to her other side. A strand of hair sticks to the side of her face where the drool had been. 

Lovely, Edward thinks mournfully at the sight. Silently, his eyes lingering on her blissfully unaware features, he retreats back toward the window. 

And on his way out, he closes it only half-way.