Chapter Text
On another occasion, Heidi Volturi led unsuspecting tourists down a path that unknowingly led to their demise. The next stop on their tour of the ancient Etruscan city was the throne room, promised to feature a special program by the woman leading them. Little did they know, they were about to witness the final moments of their lives. Could a human ever contemplate their own demise?
"Please don't separate," Heidi cautioned. "The fun is about to begin!" There was a suspicious glint of excitement in her eyes. "We are standing in front of one of the most ancient works of Italian architecture in our beautiful city! The Palazzo dei Priori was built in the year one thousand B.C.," she continued.
The tourists paid less attention to Heidi's historical account than to her striking appearance. Her snow-white skin, slender figure, long legs... Men gazed at her with admiration, while women looked on with envy. The scarlet blood-colored dress seemed to blaze on her, revealing her cleavage. Black gloves extending above her elbows completed the ensemble.
"This way," the tourists ascended the stairs, and the door swung open before them. They followed the guide casually, snapping pictures and chatting. Heidi led the way, swaying her hips seductively, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. The anticipation of what was about to transpire in the next moment was palpable. The taste of such sweet and tantalizing blood promised an incomparable, delightful sensation.
At last, they reached their destination. The broad, massive doors stood as a symbol, marking the boundary between life and the fateful moment for the unfortunate few who had arrived. The vampiress, gripping the door handle, turned to the tourists, scrutinizing them carefully.
"Come in," she said, lowering her tone.
No sooner had everyone entered the throne room than the formerly amiable Heidi underwent a sudden transformation. She darted to the door and swiftly locked it.
Tension filled the air. It was then that they realized something was amiss—an abrupt shift in Heidi's demeanor. Strange figures were already present, awaiting her. Dressed in opulent black robes adorned with gleaming medallions—Volturi. The vampires stared imperiously at their prey, seated regally on thrones. The feast was about to commence.
"From this moment forward, you shall be considered missing. Bid farewell to your cherished lives," Aro proclaimed with theatrical flair as he rose from his throne, a grin playing on his face. Beside him, Marcus Volturi sighed softly, audible to all in the deafening hush of the hall. It seemed the head of the Italian clan performed this ritual with every group of arriving tourists.
And so, with these words, the feast always began. Following the trio of rulers, the recipients of extraordinary gifts would indulge: the youthful twins Jane and Alec, Demetrius, and Felix. Only the remnants made their way to the guards. However, on this day, the sustenance did not reach them promptly, and things did not unfold as smoothly as usual...
Alec Volturi had never contemplated death, convinced that his end would never come. Few immortals entertained such thoughts, especially those gifted with the ability to evade it. Amusement arose within him as people succumbed to his pressure and sadism. He observed the girl, standing in a daze of fear at her first encounter with them... Vampires. Yet, Alec felt no emotion at her reaction, having witnessed the same countless times in his eternity. A firm grip seized her hand.
Alec erred in thinking that sampling the blood of an ailing girl would inject variety into his daily routine, if only momentarily. His miscalculation lay in flattery and overconfidence, assuming that immortality guaranteed an enduring existence. Fate, swift in delivering lessons, exposed the fallacy of his judgment.
Whether one had lived for decades or millennia, the hour of death could strike at any moment, in the most unexpected manner.
The girl, bitten by Alec, had always contemplated death. And she never ceased doing so. She blamed and tormented herself for the reckless decision to journey to Italy; if not for that, she would have peacefully continued in her homeland without unnecessary adventures. She would have moved forward... Awaiting the fatal disease to claim her. Now, even that was not to be.
She had endured an abundance of pain throughout her existence, so much so that she could scarcely feel it anymore. It took a vampire's bite to jolt her back to consciousness, as it spelled the imminent end of her life.
The sensation of the ghoul's razor-sharp teeth piercing her flesh reverberated through every nerve, every part of her body, signaling that death was imminent. Then followed the uncomfortable yet strangely comforting gradual loss of blood, inducing a weighty lethargy. The girl observed the predator's vice-like grip on her wrist as it greedily consumed, careful not to spill a drop. She knew that in just a little while, it would all be over.
Suddenly, Alec withdrew from his victim—an unnatural act for a vampire. Typically, once a victim was taken, satisfaction persisted until the last breath. But Alec ceased. The girl recoiled sharply, revealing that he hadn't consumed even half of her blood since she was conscious and able to move. The feeding rulers, who had been witnessing the gruesome dinner spectacle, immediately took notice. However, by the time they grasped what had transpired, Alec was already convulsing on the cold floor, while the panicked girl attempted to stem the bleeding.
Meanwhile, all the tourists had met their demise, drained to the point where their vessels had collapsed. The bodies, with torn tissues around the neck, presented a truly horrifying sight. The human psyche could hardly bear witness to such a spectacle. A similar reaction was expected from the sole survivor. Shivering in fear, she tried to stave off nausea.
Her light summer blouse was half-soaked in blood, her hands stained, and one of them wounded. Fortunately, the girl, accustomed to such predicaments, always carried a handkerchief. Yet, a scar in the shape of a rounded bite would forever mark her skin as a reminder of that day—two boundaries, one side.
She wouldn't escape.
Fragile Jane, witnessing the cause of Alec's critical state, gritted her teeth, scorching the victim with her gaze. She could have discreetly ended her life right then and there, but a sense of sorrow gripped her heart faster. Anger gave way to concern and anticipation.
Jane was by his side in an instant. He lay motionless on the floor—pale, bloodied, devoid of any signs of life. Her own brother.
"Alec!" An angelic voice resounded, panic permeating the air. The one who had once inflicted pain on others now felt it herself after centuries. Unexpectedly and fearfully.
What could be worse than losing someone close to you?
Ten pairs of eyes greedily fixated on the mortal. One who seemed capable of destroying them individually. Despite the aura of danger surrounding her, the girl appeared incredibly frail, even for a regular human. Whether it was despair or helplessness that caused her to sit on the floor, hunched over, remained unclear. Her eyes remained cast downward. She refused to look at the lifeless men, their faces eternally marked by pain and terror, or the bloodthirsty creatures who had orchestrated the feast.
No one dared to approach her. The atmosphere was tense and charged. The girl could sense the piercing gazes of those around her, yet she made no attempt to alter her position. Making even the slightest movement now seemed foolish; these subhumans resembled jackals, ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.
Suddenly, Alec awoke. He rose as if nothing had happened, but the events of the previous night were fresh in his memory. Jane's fears instantly dissipated as he locked eyes with her, silently assuring her of his well-being. However, Jane's anger lingered in the room like a bitter residue. She yearned to confront the mortal.
"Introduce yourself. Who are you?" Caius Volturi demanded in Italian.
A sob escaped instead of an answer. Emotions overwhelmed her. Images of the last few hours flashed through her mind: the innocent invitation to the tour, the elegant Heidi, the greetings in the hall, the merciless group murder. Now, she was being approached, an attempt to extract more information. Ignoring their questions would be more perilous than responding obediently, attempting to gather her elusive composure.
"My name is Estela," she stated, and there was no language barrier per se. She could manage a bit of Italian.
The vampire squinted his eyes in disbelief.
"How did you get here?" Caius's voice carried spikes as he posed the next question.
"I..."
Estela had no clue how to succinctly explain the situation. On a plane? Driven by an interest in art and culture, deciding to drop by here? That wasn't what they were interested in. Or perhaps she lacked the energy to engage with them? To calmly answer questions from those who had just witnessed the ruthless slaughter of innocent people? Unthinkable. Phrases popped into her head, but each attempt to articulate something resulted in absurdities that made speaking feel perilous.
The individuals present fell into silence. Intuitively, they sensed that Estela posed a threat to their existence. However, it was imperative to unravel what she concealed within herself. At first glance, she seemed perfectly harmless—any immortal could easily handle such a frail victim. Yet, the mere taste of her blood triggered thousands of nerves to react to the foreign poison, and her body convulsed in spasms that only unsettled mortals. Peculiar thoughts infiltrated everyone's minds about how, for the first time in centuries of history, humans had managed to harm a vampire. Could her enemies in the Romanian clan have discreetly marked her as one of the tourists? Or perhaps it was a new kind of virus, or maybe it was God's punishment... Only Aro Volturi could fathom the depths of the mystery.
"My brothers, I believe it is not worth wasting time on questioning," he addressed the issue sagaciously. There was a calmness and measured tone in his voice. "She is in no condition to answer."
"I know how to make her," Jane declared with an unwavering voice.
It would only take a second for her to perform her task.
"Jane," Aro signaled to the girl, motioning with his hand for her to step back. Although the vampire was highly submissive to her master, she complied. Nevertheless, a stern expression lingered on her face, driven by either a desire for revenge for her brother or to satisfy her sadistic inclinations.
The Volturi abandoned his throne and approached Estela. As always, he wore a welcoming smile for everyone. However, his inner world bore no resemblance to the façade he projected. His personality was suspicious, treacherous, and, for many, murderous. It was no coincidence that he had maintained such a slippery grasp on power for centuries.
Someone tugged at her arm and whispered almost directly into her ear:
"Get up! The Lord is coming to you!"
But her weakened legs refused to comply. It took her some time to rise, and with the strength she could muster, she clung to the man standing nearby. Fortunately, he didn't pull away.
Aro took her hand, causing her body to shiver, and delved into the dark depths of her past. He read her thoughts without averting his gaze, frozen in concentration. Illness had plagued her for years after the loss of someone dear to her—her grandmother. Her mother had no memory at all, as if she had never existed. Her relationship with her father had been strained, his image seldom emerging.
Originally, she had not planned to go to Volterra. However, an emergency hospitalization and a subsequent flight postponement compelled her to spend some time in Italy.
But that was not the most crucial aspect.
The emotional context is what matters.
Aro delved into the emotions she had experienced, meticulously examining each facet. It was as if he peered into a dark corridor with countless doors, each concealing negative emotions: fear, pain, sorrow. One particular door, situated in the deepest recesses, loomed massive and emitted a sweet yet repugnant scent... Behind it, he sensed her. Lifeless.
At that moment, a maddening thought struck him, one he resisted comprehending with his mind but felt with every fiber of his being. Could a vampire, having lived for millennia, possess a soul? After all, he considered himself a devil, a patron of the fates of the immortal. Something surged within him, something entirely unfamiliar, drowning him in its intensity, stunning him, perhaps even threatening to consume him. The same phrase echoed in his mind: "She knows neither joy nor happiness. She buried herself after her family fell apart, and her health deteriorated. She will never be cured."
Then the obsession dissipated, leaving only a faint residue on his soul. Aro withdrew from his thoughts and regarded her once more—a pallid face with cheekbones no different from a vampire's, eyes flushed from recent tears maintaining unwavering eye contact.
Stepping away from Estela, Aro contemplated what he had witnessed. The immediate events around him became inconsequential; he needed to focus on why this unprecedented experience had befallen him. What intrigued him was the oddity of not fully perceiving her past, particularly her childhood. While it could be logically explained by the selective preservation of memories, the suspicion heightened.
"Brother?" Caius turned, his voice snapping Aro back to reality. The peculiar state of Aro did not go unnoticed by those around him.
"White blood," he cut off abruptly.
"She nearly killed me, meaning she can harm the others," Alec Volturi growled, suggesting that Estela should be eliminated. He appeared fully recovered by now, as if nothing had happened to him.
"Right..." Caius concurred. "Do it."
Alec advanced toward Estela without hesitation. His hands itched to unleash his venom upon her, but he harbored a desire for a more spectacular form of murder—strangling her with his own hands. He yearned to gaze into her eyes, witnessing the deprivation of breathable oxygen.
Instinctively, she recoiled as she grasped the imbalance of forces. Alec had already lifted his hands to seize her when Aro Volturi's voice reverberated throughout the hall:
"Stop!"
All eyes shifted towards him.
"I take charge. There will be a council today," he declared without hesitation, returning to his seat.
No one dared to challenge him, for he held authority. All announcements were reserved for the meeting, forbidding anyone from posing unnecessary questions. A vampire guard swiftly assumed control to enforce the order. It was only then that Estela began to comprehend the significance of Aro's words. All she needed to do was rise and retreat from prying eyes.
She cast one last glance before leaving, her gaze incomprehensibly fixed on the one who had halted the lynching. Confusion froze on her face: What did he want? Why was he the sole defender in a sea of accusers?