Pancake’s home

Wednesday 10 December 2003

She’s gone.

Who would’ve guessed that two unassuming words, that in any other context would be meaningless, could cause such a devastating effect? Perhaps if said in another tone, Master Caius wouldn’t have erupted into a fit of rage, and poor Alec wouldn’t have looked like he was about to cry. Perhaps if Master Aro had at least tried to be a little more tactful with his announcement, this could have been framed as a minor setback — a misunderstanding, perhaps. Not the disaster that it so very clearly is.

Jane hasn’t said a word since she and her brother were called back into the throne room. What need is there to speak? Master Caius has expressed all the fury that she feels beneath her cold facade. The only thing that she herself can provide is pain. But Master Aro won’t let her torture Chelsea, despite the wishes of his ill tempered brother. As his progeny, she is obliged to obey him over the other kings.

“This is outrageous!” Master Caius snarls, his face dark and thunderous as he circles Chelsea’s kneeling form. “We’ve had others executed for far less. What you’ve done is downright treasonous, and yet rather than accepting responsibility, you blame our child! Are we really to believe that you were manipulated by a mere fledgling?”

Jane’s fingers flex impatiently behind her back as she watches the hopeless confusion that lingers in Chelsea’s eyes. Even after having the situation clarified by Master Aro, her grasp on her own thoughts seems shaky, to say the least.

“Evidently, [Name]’s powers have developed more than we anticipated.” Master Aro answers smoothly in Chelsea’s defence. He comes across as far too calm considering what has happened, but then again, dealing with crises is nothing new to him. Not when one of his brothers has lost all interest in governing, and the other would drive vampire kind to extinction if he were left to his own devices. Master Aro has to be calm. “The blame is not Chelsea’s to bear alone, but rather a collective fault of us all. I should have foreseen this coming, and Marcus should have seen the seeds of doubt souring her relationships.”

Master Caius finally stops his circling to shoot his brother a vicious glare. “It sounds to me like this ‘collective fault’ you speak of is really only a fault of yours and Marcus’s.” He takes a dangerous step towards Master Aro, growling deeply, “I had no part in this. In fact, I am the only one of us with whom she has actually been spending time with these past few months.”

Jane feels a surge of protectiveness over her dominus. She may agree with Master Caius about what should become of Chelsea, but that doesn’t mean she’ll stand to the side and allow him to speak to her father in such a way. With a quiet hiss, she steps forward, eyes narrowed and pinned on his angular face.

Master Aro notices the movement and lifts a steady hand. “Jane, there is no need for that. Caius is merely upset, which is understandable, don’t you think? We’re all a little… shaken by today’s events.”

Master Caius shoots her an incredulous look, having only just come to the realisation that one of his longest serving guards was about to turn on him. Jane meets his eyes frostily, to which he turns angrily back to Master Aro. “Control your pets brother, I am in no mood for disrespect.”

Alec bristles beside her, clearly affected by their master’s insult. Jane, on the other hand, only hardens her glare. They’re all used to this by now — Master Caius’s temper. She knows that he’s only taking this out on them because he can’t take it out on you.

But he will, when they bring you back home. And she will be there to watch, perhaps even participate. Then you will feel the pain you’ve caused the rest of the coven. The family.

“They aren’t pets, they are valued members of our household.” Master Aro corrects, moving over to Jane and resting his hands on her shoulders protectively. She doesn’t react to the contact, other than allowing a fraction of rigidity to leave her posture.

“Household.” Master Caius scoffs, “A household in which our youngest has run away from, like many of today’s troubled youth? Is that what you’re suggesting? This is ridiculous, Aro. [Name] has gone against us — her kings. That is treason. She shall be brought back here as soon as possible and then punished accordingly.”

Master Marcus takes a firm step towards the white-haired king, his usually impassive face etched with worry and frustration. “I will not stand by and allow you to torture her. She is but a child, brother. Children make mistakes, they are easily misguided and manipulated by external forces outside of our control. [Name] needs our understanding, not punishment.”

“Outside of our control?” Master Caius echoes, his voice going dangerously soft. “I seem to recall that it was Aro’s idea to have the whore and her husband brought in.”

“Caius!” Master Aro scolds, “There is no need for such vulgarity.”

He rolls his milky-red eyes in response, before turning to where Demetri and Felix are standing stiffly a little further back. Felix is glaring so fiercely at Chelsea that his expression almost looks pained, and Demetri doesn’t even appear to be present. His gaze is fixed on nothing, simply staring into empty space, as though he’s too overwhelmed to even focus on the conversation around him.

“We’re wasting our time with this conversation. Demetri, you will track her down, along with Santiago and Alec.”

Demetri finally seems to snap back to reality. He nods sharply and straightens up, folding his arms neatly behind his back. “Yes, Master Caius.”

Beside him, Felix’s brows furrow further. He tears his hard stare away from Chelsea and looks between the kings in protest, clearly unhappy with the idea of Santiago being sent out rather than him.

None of them pay him any attention, but Master Aro does object with his own reasoning.

“Santiago? What need would they have for him?”

Master Caius scowls, immediately defensive of his progeny. “He’s the fastest vampire on the guard. If [Name] tries to bolt, he’ll catch up to her far quicker than any of the others.”

“Santiago is far too volatile for a task so delicate.” Master Marcus argues evenly, somehow sounding even more weary than usual. Jane has never understood your attachment to him — the youngest, and by far the most tired of the kings. What could you possibly have to gain from seeking out his company so often?

Master Aro’s thumbs begin absently rubbing circles into Jane’s shoulders, perhaps sensing her aggravation, as he speaks up again from behind her. “Yes, and entirely unneeded. [Name] won’t be running anywhere, because Alec will incapacitate her and whomever she may be with.”

Jane twists her head slightly to glance up at the dark-haired king. He immediately meets her gaze, features softening with pity and his usual adoration as he recognises immediately what she wants. “My child, you’ll stay here with me. We will wait for your sister to be returned together.”

For a moment, Jane considers protesting, but then she sees a flicker of genuine worry in his eyes, and finally relents with a nod. This isn’t about her skills not being needed to bring you back, no, this is more personal than that. Master Aro wants her to stay with him for his own peace of mind. He needs at least one of his children near.

“Fine,” Master Caius’s clipped voice interrupts the silence, “Santiago won’t go. But Demetri and Alec, I expect no delay. You will locate our child and bring her back to us as swiftly as possible.”

Jane glances at her brother, who’s standing beside her with a cool, focused expression. His soft brown hair is a little ruffled from when he had been anxiously tugging at it earlier, but thankfully Master Aro had put a stop to that before he actually ripped any out. Being given the task of tracking you down with Demetri seems to have calmed him slightly, but there’s still an undeniable stiffness in his posture that betrays his worry. Jane eyes him uncomfortably. She hates seeing her brother upset, but she’s also never been particularly good at reassuring people. Should she say anything? Wish him well?

Alec turns to look at her and smiles gently, noticing the conflict twisting her features. “Don’t worry, sister, I’ll bring her back safely. All will be fine.”

She nods in silent gratitude, unable to force a smile for her brother. He knows her well enough to understand that most of Jane’s smiles are artificial anyway.

Master Aro’s delicate voice begins to speak again, somehow perfectly articulating the flurry of thoughts and feelings running through his daughter’s mind. He doesn’t even need to touch Jane’s skin anymore to understand what she is thinking. “You are a credit to the Volturi, Alec. I have no doubt that you and Demetri will return [Name] to her rightful home without any issues.”

Alec bows, “Thank you, Master.”

Demetri nods politely in response, but doesn’t say anything. The compliment was directed more at Alec than himself, which doesn’t seem to bother the tracker much. He knows that, excluding you, the twins are Master Aro’s favourites. Them receiving more attention than anyone else is nothing new, and the fact that Demetri is able to accept that puts Jane slightly more at ease. He knows his place. Good.

“Enough of this time wasting.” Master Caius snaps impatiently, shooting a pointed glare over Jane’s head directed at his brother. “Demetri, Alec, go now. Bring her back safely.”

Demetri doesn’t need to be told twice. With a quick dip of his head to the kings, he quickly exits the throne room. Alec, on the other hand, hesitates for a moment. His fingers brush against Jane’s reassuringly, and when she turns to look at him, he offers up another small smile. One that shows wisdom far beyond his physical age — the smile of someone with millenia of experience.

“We’ll be back soon,” Alec promises, speaking quietly in Old English. He knows that hearing their mother tongue always brings Jane comfort in times of stress or anxiety. Right now though, it only heightens her despair. She had been planning on teaching you their language for a while, but hadn’t had the chance to since you began pulling away from everyone.

Will you even want to learn when you come back home?

Jane’s face hardens. Yes, of course you will. You don’t actually hate them, you’re just confused. Master Aro has always warned her that your youthful mind is malleable and easy to trick. These aren’t your opinions you’re acting on, but Alma’s. This is all her fault.

A low, agitated growl rumbles through the air. “Alec, I have given you a direct order. Leave.”

“There is no need for such anger, my dear Caius.” Master Aro sighs, his fingers switching from rubbing Jane’s shoulders to gently squeezing them. “Alec was only bidding his sister goodbye.”

Master Caius narrows his eyes, “I don’t care — he’s wasting time. Go, Alec. Demetri is waiting.”

Alec bows again, deeper and more apologetic than before, and then leaves the throne room. Master Caius watches him go, before turning to scowl at Felix, who still looks unhappy about not being allowed to join the mission. “You’re far too old to be sulking around like a child,” he snaps irritably, “go and do something productive.”

Felix’s expression shifts slightly in surprise. For a moment, the giant guard lingers where he stands, unsure of himself, and then abruptly exits without a word. He’s breaking protocol by not bowing or addressing the kings in any way, but it seems like they’re all too distracted by your disappearance to bother correcting him.

A brief, heavy silence pursues, until Master Caius finally sighs, “I’ll be in my chambers if either of you need me. Chelsea, you may as well leave too, seeing as my brothers have overruled your punishment.”

With that, he swiftly turns and storms out. Chelsea doesn’t hesitate to follow, leaving Jane alone with Masters Aro and Marcus, as well as Renata and a few lower ranking guards who are standing by the doors.

Master Aro moves to stand beside her, running his fingers through his long stream of black hair in a subtle show of distress. The controlled, authoritative mask he had worn earlier has now slipped, revealing the true extent of his fear. Jane watches as his hands lose interest in his now rumpled hair, and instead move to the dark cravat around his neck, tugging it down as if it’s causing him discomfort.

“Sulpicia and Athenodora will need to be told of what has happened.” Master Marcus murmurs gravely, interrupting his brother’s fidgeting.

Master Aro pauses, his arms dropping back to his sides in a controlled manner, suddenly aware that he is still in the presence of others. “Not yet.” He replies curtly, “Not until the situation is under control.”

“Aro, they need to know.”

“I said not yet!” He snaps back, before taking a breath to collect himself, “Give me time, brother. The news will go down better once Caius and I have had time to collect ourselves.”

Master Marcus narrows his eyes, but doesn’t argue. Sulpicia and Athenodora aren’t his mates, after all, so there’s little he can do in regards to them. “Very well…”

He doesn’t sound at all reassured, but Master Aro doesn't seem to care. Rather than wasting any more time trying to placate his brother, he turns his attention back to Jane. “Come, my dear. We have had an eventful day — it is time we rested.”

He takes her hand in his and offers a close-lipped, warm smile. Jane doesn’t return it, though he doesn’t appear to mind. Neither of the twins ever smile much, and at a time like this, he wouldn’t expect them to. Not while they’re just as anxious about your wellbeing as he is.

Without another word to his brother, Master Aro begins leading her out of the throne room. Jane casts one final glance back at Master Marcus, she takes in the aged weariness of his youthful face and the defeat in his posture, before turning her focus back where her dominus is taking her. The royal lounge perhaps? Master Aro often invites his children there, especially when his brothers are occupied with their own whims.

It doesn’t really matter where they go. Jane knows that he just needs to hold one of them close, and secretly, she feels the same way. She’d never admit it of course, but your disappearance has left her shaken and anxious, and without her brother here, the only person who may be able to offer her comfort is her dominus. The closest thing she has to a father.

Friday 12 December 2003

The queens’ tower is cooler than expected. Caius has never before considered how the winter months might affect the temperature of his mate’s residence, but now that he’s here, the difference is palpable. Of course, he isn’t uncomfortable, so Athenodora isn’t either. Vampires don’t get cold. Nevertheless, the surprising frigidness serves as an uncomfortable reminder of how little he visits his wife.

Do they not have firewood?

Caius scowls. He’ll have to get that sorted out.

“I shall be the one to break the news to our dear wives.” Aro murmurs calmly, his voice cutting through the stale air, “It is only natural. I am the most skilled orator of us three, after all.”

Caius’s stride almost pauses, his foot stays raised to take another step up the ancient, marble stairs for half a second, before continuing as if nothing was said. His brother isn’t wrong — his oratory skills are superior, yet that hardly seems a solid argument for taking control of the conversation. “I fail to see how your competence at public speaking is relevant to the situation at hand. We have an audience of two, not two hundred.”

Marcus grunts some quiet, humourless laugh and earns an offended frown from Aro, who clearly hadn’t expected him to agree with Caius.

“All I mean is that I will be able to break the news in a much more gentle manner than you will.” Aro replies smoothly, adjusting his shirt in an attempt to hide his flusteredness. Caius sees through it easily; three thousand years is more than enough time to learn someone’s quirks and tells. “I mean no offence, my reasoning comes purely from a practical standpoint.”

Caius scoffs quietly under his breath, knowing full well that his brothers can hear him. “Yes, always so practical, aren’t you?”

The three of them reach the doors to the main chamber, and Aro replies in an equally low volume, “Caius, I implore you not to be so contentious. It is important, now more than ever, that we show a united front before our wives. For their own sakes, we must be tolerant of each other.”

Caius shoots him a glare, “I am not being contentious, I am merely questioning this apparent authority you seem to believe you have over Marcus and I.”

Marcus doesn’t speak in agreement, though Caius can sense that he is keenly listening. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Aro hisses, “I do not regard myself as superior to either of you. If you must insist on complicating this, then fine, you may be the one to tell them. But know this, Caius: it will be you who they take their anger out on first.”

Caius turns his nose up stubbornly. “I am capable of handling whatever tantrum they may throw. Do not forget that Corin is with them too — she can step in if they become unruly.”

Marcus looks mildly uncomfortable with what his brother is suggesting, though Aro remains frustratingly calm. Had Caius been a younger vampire, he might have attacked him — made an attempt to elicit some kind of reaction. How dare he be so composed? Their daughter has betrayed them, and is now currently on the run. Not only is that an act of treason, but it is also a great embarrassment to their coven.

“Let us hope that Corin’s expertise won’t be necessary.” Aro replies evenly, after a beat of silence. He doesn’t wait for a response before gesturing for the guards to open the large, ornate doors, putting an abrupt end to the discussion.

Caius hisses through his teeth as his brother steps inside the room, clearly expecting the other two to follow without question. Marcus begins walking silently behind him, looking around the space with a melancholy expression. He’s thinking about poor Didyme, no doubt.

Caius pushes down the familiar flicker of guilt that threatens to rise deep from his gut. He doesn’t regret helping Aro hide the murder, no, that was necessary for the stability of the coven. All the same, seeing such pain painted across Marcus’s face does stir a sense of pity within him. His brother lost his mate, and now he’s understandably terrified of losing his child too.

Caius quickly catches up to Marcus, the tapestries and marble statues around him becoming a momentary blur as he moves with supernatural speed. Then, he slows his stride back down to a human pace, walking perfectly in time with his gentle brother.

“[Name] will be fine,” Caius mutters gruffly, “you know that Demetri will find her without any issues, and Alec is perfectly capable of dealing with any unforeseen circumstances.”

Marcus turns to look at Caius. His thick, dark brows are creased, and his expression is taut with solemn anxiety. Obviously Caius’s minor attempt at reassurance has done absolutely nothing to help. “It is not her physical state I worry about, but rather what may have become of her mind. We cannot know for sure how much damage Chelsea has done until I am face to face with her again.”

Before Caius can come up with another desperate argument against his brother’s bleak outlook, Aro stops in his tracks and sends them both a pointed look over his shoulder: a warning to be careful of what they say whilst in such close proximity to the wives.

Caius nearly scoffs, but refrains when he looks past Aro and sees Sulpicia lounging on one of the cabriole sofas. Her lithe figure and mass of dark curls make her look almost catlike in appearance — a smaller, less dangerous copy of her mate. Caius can see her hazy red eyes dancing across the pages of the aged book in her hand, as if it’s the most interesting piece of literature in the world. He quickly scans the vast space for his own wife, drawing in a deep breath of air when he confirms she’s not in the room. Athenodora’s ambrosial scent is fresh, as he’d expect, so she must’ve been here only a few minutes ago at most.

Why hasn’t she come out to greet him? Surely Corin’s influence can’t have dulled her mind enough for her not to notice her own husband’s presence. No, this can’t be Corin’s doing — he had made sure the dosage was right.

“Where is my wife?” Caius growls under his breath. The question was supposed to be rhetorical, but Aro answers it anyway.

“How should I know?” He quips snootily, “She’s your mate, Caius. Perhaps she’s hiding, I know I certainly would if I were married to you.”

Caius very nearly strikes Aro for that.

He doesn’t though, because Sulpicia has finally put down her book and is now smiling brightly at her husband.

“Cuore mio, you have come to visit! I have missed you dearly.”

Aro’s usually rigid posture relaxes slightly as he returns the smile, immediately leaving his brothers to sit with her on the sofa. The pair exchange a gentle kiss, which Marcus deliberately averts his eyes for. Caius probably would’ve too, if he weren’t so busy glaring daggers at his brother.

“I have missed you too, my dear heart. Tell me, how have you been?” Aro all but launches into his usual monologue. “I think of you every passing second of the day, it pains me that I cannot see you more.”

Caius chooses to ignore the rest of the conversation. Aro may have been an infuriating presence these past few days, but he knows that the other king won’t overstep. He’ll wait until everyone is seated to break the news.

Yet, Caius doesn’t want it to come from Aro. He’s already made that clear, though he can’t be certain that Aro won’t just do it anyway. In fact, Caius expects that.

“You should be the one to tell them.” He murmurs to Marcus, making sure his voice is quiet enough to keep their brother from hearing.

Marcus looks at him with mild surprise. “Why is that?”

“Because he is a pompous fool!” Caius hisses, “He thinks he is better than us. Why should this be his news to tell? [Name] belongs to all of us, not just him.”

Marcus inclines his head tepidly, and then responds in a frustratingly even tone, “If the idea of Aro breaking the news is so appalling to you, then why not do it yourself?”

Caius runs his fingers through his fine, silken hair with a sigh. “You know exactly why. Aro was correct when he said that I don’t have the right temperament for such a delicate topic. I do not think so highly of myself to ignore a fact we all know to be true. With that being said, I can’t stand the thought of him telling them. It must be you.”

Marcus only shakes his head, “No, Caius. They are not my mates — this responsibility should not be delegated to me.”

“But she’s your child too!” Caius argues, forcing his voice to remain a barely audible whisper.

Marcus looks at him sternly, “Yes, she is. And in case you’ve forgotten, she is missing. That is a far greater issue than your trivial rivalry with Aro, so I suggest you go and summon Athenodora so that we can tell them what has happened.”

Deep down, Caius knows that his brother is right. Your absence is of much more importance than Aro’s hubris is, and under less pressing circumstances, Caius wouldn’t allow himself to be so affected by it. He is by now used to Aro being the driving force behind the Volturi’s actions. That, he has accepted with grace, because Caius is perfectly content with his role of directing the more punitive side of things.

Today though, with such high stakes, Caius’s patience is thin. He doesn’t like not being in control.

Without another word to Marcus, he turns on his heel and crosses the room towards where Athenodora’s door is. He doesn’t bother with knocking, instead swinging it open without consideration for the damage he might cause (the door can be replaced if need be).

Athenodora looks up at him from where she sits at her vanity, an old wooden comb in her hand hovering near her ivory hair.

Within a second, the surprise on her face melts into relief, and she quickly stands. “Caius!”

He scowls, “Is the state of your hair so important that you must prioritise it over coming to greet your husband?”

Athenodora’s expression falls slightly with hurt confusion, “Is something wrong, my love?”

Caius can feel his patience waning. He knows, deep down, that this agitation is ridiculous, and not at all her fault. You’re the real reason he is upset. Your disappearance has been a catalyst for all of his anger these past couple of days; he shouldn’t take it out on Athenodora.

“Yes, something is wrong.” Caius replies curtly, watching through narrowed eyes as his wife moves closer and tenderly rests her hands upon his chest.

She hums softly, her full lips pressing into a saddened pout. “I’ve felt it too. These past two days, Sulpicia and I have been… unsettled.”

Caius grimaces, he knows exactly why that is. As soon as Chelsea was discovered in Aro’s study, the kings had ordered Corin withdraw her influence from the wives, so that they’ll be able to react accordingly to the news. Of course, Caius hadn’t stopped to think about what side effects may arise from this. Athenodora looks troubled, anxious and slightly ill, though there’s a sharpness to her gaze that he hasn’t seen in centuries.

Caius doesn’t know how to feel about this newfound lucidity of hers.

“I have grave news.” He rumbles, lifting a hand to gently cup her cheek. “Forgive my conduct, darling, I have been under great stress as of late.”

She hums sympathetically and leans in to peck his lips. Caius returns the affection, though his movements are rushed and his mind is elsewhere. Athenodora pulls back with a barely visible frown.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” She offers gently, removing her hands from his chest in favour of holding his knuckles. Her fingers brush over the pale skin soothingly as she continues speaking. “Perhaps I can help.”

“I do not need help,” Caius murmurs, leaning in again to press his forehead against hers. His eyes flutter shut, and he draws in a deep breath before saying, “I just need you here with me. I need my mate.”

He hadn’t realised how calming Athenodora’s presence would be during this crisis. The only reason the kings are here is because they need to explain what you have done, but now that Caius is with his wife, who for once, isn’t intoxicated by Corin’s gift, he feels a sense of peace.

He hasn’t felt this way since before Alma’s trial.

“Is this news only for my ears, or does it concern everyone?” Athenodora’s quiet voice interrupts his train of thought.

“Everyone.” Caius answers immediately. That fleeting moment of tranquility is swiftly shattered as he remembers what he is here for. “My brothers are already aware, but you and Sulpicia must be told as well.”

She nods solemnly, clearly recognising that this is important, “Then I suppose we should go and join them outside.”

“Yes, we should.” Caius pries one of his hands free and begins leading her back to the drawing room, where the others await.

As soon as he and Athenodora return, Aro’s head swings round to look at them. His expression appears vaguely impatient, though he doesn’t complain about the wait. “Athenodora, how have you been, dear?”

Caius cuts in before his wife can answer, “She’s been fine, Aro. Let us skip the pleasantries and discuss what needs to be discussed.”

Athenodora squeezes his hand placatingly, a silent plea to be patient. He doesn’t acknowledge the action, instead bringing her with him to sit on a longer sofa perpendicular to the cabriole. It has the same, distinct style as its smaller counterpart, as they had been made by the same carpenter in the 18th century, though Caius much prefers the larger one. He leans into the backrest and stretches his arms across the top of it, feeling very much like a big cat claiming territory. Athenodora leans into his side as Marcus moves to sit on the far end, not saying a word to anyone.

Aro clears his throat, not out of necessity, but to announce that he is about to speak. It’s an old habit he’s never grown out of in his three thousand years of immortality. “Well, I suppose I may as well begin, now that we’re all here.”

He shoots a pointed glance at Caius, then adds, “Unless either of you would like to break the news instead.”

Caius sends him a filthy glare but doesn’t volunteer to speak. Neither does Marcus, who doesn’t look at all comfortable being perched at the end of the sofa. Caius isn’t entirely sure why he insisted on coming in the first place.

“Very well.” Aro begins in a voice lacking its usual flair. He’s subdued himself noticeably for this occasion, which Caius begrudgingly respects. “I’m sure you have noticed that [Name]’s visits have become less frequent these past couple of months. The reason for this is… alarming, to say the least, but I do not want to cause either of you any unnecessary distress. We had two vampires on trial in October, one of whom had a very potent gift, and had been acquaintances with Victor Wainwright — the leader of [Name]’s former coven. As I’m sure you can imagine, she had some particularly strong opinions about our operation, and, by extension, [Name]’s position in our ranks. This gifted vampire took advantage of our dear child’s naivety and twisted her mind against us.”

Sulpicia shifts to sit more upright on the sofa, her eyes narrowed with worry. “So what have you done about this? Where is she?”

“Gone.” Caius says bluntly, ignoring the scathing look Aro sends him. “She ran away. We’ve sent Demetri and Alec out to retrieve her.”

Beside him, Athenodora’s whole body stiffens. He looks down at where she’s curled up against him and frowns at the obvious fear in her expression. “There is no reason to worry; the guards will sort everything.”

Sulpicia’s eyes remain fixed on Caius, hardened in a way he hasn’t seen from her in centuries — perhaps even millenia. “When did this happen?”

“Early this morning.” Aro replies, cutting off his brother before he has the chance to speak. Caius looks at him sharply, both in irritation and surprise. You’ve been missing for two days.

Marcus also looks slightly confused, though he doesn’t call out Aro’s lie.

“You’ll have to forgive us for not making you aware sooner,” he continues, sounding deceptively regretful, “as you can imagine, today has been difficult for everyone. I have had to tend to Jane — and Caius, well he…”

Athenodora looks at her husband expectantly, and he pretends not to notice. He doesn’t like that Aro is implying he has done nothing since you ran away, as if Aro is the only functioning member of the coven. “I have been occupied.” Caius says coldly, unable to tear his frigid glare away from his brother.

“Yes, of course.” Aro muses, his lips twitching with cruel amusement. “Caius has been exceptionally busy.”

Sulpicia finally turns her attention back to Aro, who has now reclined slightly back into the cabriole. His face is darkly smug and oozing superiority, as if he genuinely believes himself to be in the presence of lesser beings.

“How did it happen?” Sulpicia presses, ignoring the growing tension between the men of the room. “I thought Chelsea ensured the loyalty of all guards.”

She looks over at Marcus accusingly, “Did you not see any indication of this in her bonds? Surely you must have noticed her loyalty waning.”

Caius hears the younger king breathe out what sounds like a quiet sigh of regret. “We all noticed the signs, but none of us could have predicted that she would do something so rash.”

“Of course, Aro would have seen this in [Name]’s thoughts, had he bothered to check.” Caius interjects snidely, pulling Athenodora closer to his side. She rests her head on his shoulder and intertwines her fingers with his in a placating manner.

Aro shoots him an icy glare, “Don’t test me, brother. This is a challenging time for all of us.”

“Enough with this relentless back and forth, both of you!” Athenodora protests before her husband can fire back. “Our daughter is missing, yet all you’re focusing on is this ridiculous superiority contest.”

Caius can hear the pain in her voice, thickened by a genuine fear for your safety. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and squeezes lightly in an attempt to calm her down. “Should, for any reason, Demetri and Alec do not return with our dear one, then I shall make it my personal duty to return her home safely. Do not fret, my love.”

“How can I not fret?” Athenodora’s voice cracks with emotion. “She’s little more than a fledgling. She needs her family! How can I possibly go on knowing she’s out there all alone?”

Caius grimaces, he hasn’t heard her sound this fragile since Didyme died.

“None of you have explained how this has happened.” Sulpicia speaks up. Her tone is much more clipped than Athenodora’s, laced with agitation rather than worry. “It’s Chelsea’s duty to ensure that none of the guards would even think to betray you, yet [Name]’s loyalty has been completely eradicated? I find it difficult to believe that this was a mere accident. Has Chelsea received a punishment for her insubordination?”

Aro opens his mouth to speak, but Caius interrupts. “Yes, Chelsea is currently being held in the east wing dungeon, guarded by Santiago and Kasián.”

Sulpicia frowns, “Kasián?”

“He’s new. One of the lower guards — I wouldn’t expect you to know him.” Caius explains briskly, surprised that she’s actually showing any interest in the guards.

“Caius.” Aro’s quiet voice cuts sharply through the air. Caius glances over at his brother in mild surprise, caught off guard by the sudden hostility. “You put Chelsea in the dungeon?”

“Yes.” He replies curtly, “I had to set an example for the other guards. We do not tolerate disobedience, and Chelsea is not exempt from the rules.”

The air seems to grow colder than it had been before. A thick icy cool descends upon the vampires, replacing the comfortable winter chill with something far less pleasant. There’s a moment of heavy silence, before Aro slowly rises from his seat and peels Sulpicia off his arm without even sparing her a glance. Caius notices the hurt that flashes across his sister-in-law’s face, though it doesn’t concern him enough to jump to her defence. Especially not with the sudden darkness that has replaced the usual milky red of Aro’s eyes.

“I told you that she was not to be punished.”

Caius doesn’t back down. “Chelsea committed high treason. If the others see that such a serious crime results in no punishment, then they may follow in her footsteps.”

Aro’s features twist into an unfamiliar glare — a rare show of genuine anger that’s usually locked behind a charming facade. It’s unsettling, the same way seeing a bat or an owl out in broad daylight would be. On Aro’s face, anger looks wrong. Misplaced.

That’s not to say Caius hasn’t seen his brother lose his temper. Such instances are rare, but they do happen every century or so. What makes this occasion so disconcerting, is how quickly the switch has happened. Aro is certainly out of sorts today, more so than Caius had initially realised.

“O you pig-headed bastard!” He seethes, taking a threatening step closer. “I’ve always known you were the most simple-minded of us three, but I hadn’t realised you were witless enough to torture the most important person on the guard!”

Caius releases a deep, guttural snarl, shedding his aristocratic coolness in favour of raw savagery. He doesn’t think to defend himself verbally, not against an insult so personal. One that stings unlike any of the profanities that have been hurled at him in the past, because Aro has struck something tender that even Caius himself doesn’t want to acknowledge.

Marcus’s form begins to move in his peripheral vision, but even the youngest of the kings isn’t fast enough to intercept the assault on Aro. Caius’s fingers wrap firmly around his brother’s neck, applying just enough pressure to make the skin start to splinter. A choked growl rumbles from Aro’s throat as he panics and trashes, fingernails scraping desperately against Caius’s face. Aiming for the eyes — a dirty trick.

Caius hisses in pain when one of the attacks lands, just barely missing his pupil.

“You filthy cur!” He howls, throwing Aro into a wall.

The stone cracks under the force of the impact, spitting shards of rock onto Aro’s disheveled hair. He looks dazed for a moment, giving no reaction when Marcus darts to his side and gently squeezes his arm.

Caius scoffs at the sight and crosses his arms over his chest. “Our great and formidable king was defeated by a single blow. How pathetic.”

His words seem to bring Aro back to the present, because the dark haired king immediately bats away Marcus and staggers to his feet. Dust rains from his hair like confetti, but he doesn’t react. He doesn’t even blink as a few grains land on his lashes, just millimetres from his charcoal eyes.

“Even now, you cannot comprehend the damage you have potentially caused this organisation.” Aro hisses, stalking back towards Caius. “Let us not forget that it was you who sent Chelsea to check on [Name]. This would not have happened if you had just left the child to paint.”

Caius bares his teeth, feeling his gums stretch to accommodate the extending of his canines into longer fangs. “Don’t you dare pin the blame on me. I’m not the one who insisted on that ridiculous trial two months prior.”

“Caius,” Marcus rumbles, moving to stand beside Aro again, “the fault lands on no one alone. Let this not turn us against each other after three millennia of unity.”

Caius narrows his eyes and studies his brother in silence. His youthful face looks far older than usual, weathered with fear and exhaustion. He hasn’t changed out of the outfit he was wearing two days ago: a cream shirt with a ruffled collar and dark 19th century slacks. They aren’t dirty, of course, but there are noticeable creases and folds that make Marcus look less like a king and more like a member of the proletariat. It’s pitiful, really, how badly he’s coping with your absence.

“Aro is disregarding my authority to punish the guards as I see fit.” Caius replies stiffly, shooting Aro a pointed glare.

Aro doesn’t flinch at the venom in Caius’s voice. “Were it anyone else, I would not have an issue,” he clarifies, schooling his tone back to its usual mildness. “However, you are well aware that Chelsea is imperative to the stability of the Volturi. She must be kept content here. Do you think that throwing her in a dungeon to be tortured will make her feel valued? Do you think that is conveying the right message to our most important guard?”

Caius sneers coldly, flashing his fangs at his brother. Aro has a point — he can admit that, even if only to himself — but it still isn’t strong enough to warrant such an insult to Caius’s pride. “I am conveying a message to the whole guard, not just Chelsea. They must see that disobedience will not be tolerated. And besides, it is Corin’s duty to keep her satisfied here, not mine.”

“You know that this is not Chelsea’s fault,” Aro sighs wearily, as if this debate is beginning to tire him. “And if I’m not mistaken, Corin has been spending most of her time with you, Caius.”

Caius rolls his eyes, “I am entitled to her services. My business with Corin is none of your concern.”

Aro shuts his eyes and runs his fingers through his hair impatiently. His pale lips quiver slightly as he exhales, itching to form words that’ll no doubt anger his brother more.

“You’ve been using Corin to keep Chelsea tied to the guard?”

Caius stiffens at the sound of his mate’s gentle voice. He slowly untangles his arms and allows them to drop to his side, glancing warily at Athenodora’s face. Her soft brows are slightly knitted now, not with worry anymore, but confusion. There’s a hint of suspicion in the cloudy redness of her eyes, which are ever so slightly narrowed as they fix upon her husband.

“Well…” Caius starts, feeling a little taken aback. He’s never once been questioned like this, especially not by his own wife. Why has she taken on such an accusatory tone, and why does Caius feel such a strong need to defend himself? “Yes, although I wouldn’t say we’re keeping her tied to us. It’s a reward for her service — a privilege that only she has access to.”

He pauses to study Athenodora’s expression more closely. She still doesn’t look at all convinced. In fact, now she seems concerned, as if Caius’s words have confirmed some deep rooted fear that she’s only now having to come to terms with. “You’re upset. Why? Do you not agree with our methods?”

“I just wonder,” she says hesitantly, “Corin is often here guarding Sulpicia and I. Why is that? Is she here to keep us complacent, as she does for Chelsea?”

Caius goes utterly still. So still that to a mortal he must look like an intricately carved marble statue, with faded red eyes and hair that has become bleached from years of sunlight. A Greek god frozen in place, trapped under Medusa’s stare. Though to compare Athenodora to a gorgon is far too cruel, even for him. Her hair isn’t a vicious tangle of serpents, no, it’s soft and light. It catches the sun and glows like a halo around her perfect features. She’s like an angel, questioning his sins with childlike innocence.

How can he lie to someone so pure?

“No, my dear sister.” Aro’s voice starts from behind Caius, so gentle that it barely constitutes a whisper. His words are practically floating on a single exhale. “Corin is here to keep you both safe, not complacent. She is a protector — a friend even, but not a gaoler.”

Athenodora’s expression shifts to one of conflicted hope, like she wants so desperately to believe Aro, but can’t bring herself to. Of course she can’t. She’s known him for over three thousand years, she’s familiar with his tactics.

Caius remains a neutral force when his wife turns to regard him instead. He wants to confess to years of manipulation and control. He wants to drop to his knees and bury his face in her lap, begging for forgiveness like a common criminal would to a priest. But how could he ever do that? How could he put the woman he loves through such turmoil, only for nothing to change? For her to remain trapped here, tangled in a never-ending cycle of drunken ecstasy.

“Aro is right.” Caius says slowly, forcing his guilt to the back of his mind. “We would never use Corin to keep you bound here. Her only purpose is to ensure your safety and provide you with company if you so desire.”

Athenodora smiles slightly, but the wariness in her eyes remains. Caius sighs and glances over at Marcus, hoping that his brother will agree and ease Athenodora’s worries, but the youngest king isn’t even looking at him. Marcus has never agreed with his brothers over the treatment of the queens, Caius knows that. Regardless, it seems like a great overreaction to outright refuse eye contact over something as trivial as conflicting moral standards.

“Right.” Aro’s melodic voice cuts through the tension, “That will be all then. We shall leave you both to process this difficult period together.”

Caius feels a hand land heavy on his shoulder as Aro walks over from behind. It’s not painful, but it’s certainly not gentle either. The animosity between them is obviously still present, just… contained now. Hidden from the others.

“You’re leaving already?” Sulpicia asks, rising from the cabriole to approach Aro. He takes one of her hands in his a places a tender kiss to her knuckles, the other still remaining fixed upon Caius’s shoulder.

“I’m afraid so, la mia regina. My brother and I must pay a visit to Chelsea, so that he may apologise for the misunderstanding.”

Caius bristles and shoves off Aro’s hand. “I will not apologise for exercising my right to inflict punishment as I see fit. If you want to coddle the guards, then I will not interfere, but don’t expect me to grovel for forgiveness at the feet of a lesser being.”

Aro draws his hand up to his chest, as if Caius’s touch physically harmed him. “I am not asking you to grovel, a simple apology will suffice. This isn’t a reprimand, it is for the stability —”

“Yes, I know!” Caius cuts him off with an irritated snarl. “It is for the stability of our organisation.” He taunts, “For our sovereignty!”

The air crackles with charged hostility, neither man willing to back down. Aro’s eyes gleam dangerously in the gloomy winter light that filters through stained glass windows. His body is rigid, not poised for attack as a guard would be, but perfectly straight, standing at his full height as if to intimidate Caius.

It doesn’t, though. Surviving without a gift, battling werewolves and vampires alike with only his strength to rely on, has made Caius a much more proficient fighter than his brothers. They all know that, and he has the scars to prove it.

Caius is confident that he would emerge victorious from any battle with Aro.

Sulpicia retreats back to the sofa, sensing the potential danger in standing too near, whilst Marcus takes a single step closer.

“Your endless conflict is tiring us all. Discuss this as men, not beasts, if you must continue, but do not brawl in the presence of ladies.”

Caius whips round to glare at Marcus, taking a generous step back so as to keep both men in his field of vision. “You spineless wretch! How dare you lecture me, boy? You contribute nothing to this coven.”

Marcus’s face twists with hurt. His lips part as if to speak, but no words come out, just a quiet sigh before he abruptly turns around and leaves. Caius watches him go with a dark scowl, and then looks back at Aro.

“Am I the only person here who actually cares that [Name] is gone? She fled, and Chelsea, our highest ranking guard, allowed this. Look me in the eye and tell me you feel no anger. Tell me not a single ounce of your being blames her for not stopping this!”

Aro stays silent for a moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching like he’s biting back a bitter retort. After a few loaded seconds of silence, he finally replies, “We are all upset, Caius, but that is no reason to punish someone who you know is innocent. Chelsea has served us faithfully for far longer than most — you know that she would have stopped [Name] if she could have. I’ve scoured her mind, and she is overcome with guilt.”

Aro pauses to think before continuing, his eyes drifting to one of the marble statues that they'd commissioned when the tower was being built. Caius doesn’t need to look to know that it is a carving of Soteria, the direct personification of safety and protection. They’d specifically chosen this deity after Didyme’s death to soothe the queens’ anxieties of being attacked.

“Be kinder to Marcus,” Aro says quietly, “this is especially difficult for him, being without a mate.”

Caius ignores the request, glaring dubiously at his brother. His eyes haven’t left the statue, and he seems deep in thought. “You’re praying for her safe return?”

Aro hums absently, his head inclining slightly in a noncommittal nod.

“You abandoned your faith long ago,” Caius says, his voice taking on an accusatory tone, “yet now you come crawling back to beg at the feet of the Gods?”

Aro’s cloaked shoulders stiffen as he shifts his gaze to look back upon Caius. “What harm is there in returning to old comforts?”

Caius scowls. It seems hypocritical to him for a vampire to believe in some higher power, as if they themselves aren’t walking gods. “Soteria did nothing for Didyme, what makes you think she would help [Name]? Even if the Gods we once bowed to are real, they do not look favourably upon the undead.”

The clouded red of Aro’s eyes flickers again to a smoky black, resembling the last embers of a dying fire. “Do not speak of my sister in such a way.”

Behind him, Sulpicia shifts uncomfortably on the sofa, upset with the mention of Didyme.

“All I am saying,” Caius replies firmly, “is that our fortunes and hardships are caused by our own efforts and mistakes. It was not the Gods who gave us immortality, just as they did not drop us into our thrones. We are the masters of our own destiny, and so we need not look to the endless, unfeeling sky for help. It is Demetri and Alec who will bring our child home, not Soteria or Artemis.”

Aro’s lips twitch, “There is no proof for or against the Gods of the ancient world. We could debate the divine for centuries, and still come to no agreement.”

“We could.” Caius agrees carefully, sensing the air grow lighter around them. At last, the conflict has eased, broken by philosophy, of all things. “Though I suppose we don't have the time for that. Why concern ourselves with the moral implications of higher beings when we ourselves are the closest things to gods? We decide who lives and who dies, and we give command to those who exist to serve us. It is our right to dictate [Name]’s fate, to bring her back to Volterra by force if we must, and keep her here.”

For the first time in days, Caius sees his brother’s face shift into an expression of genuine pleasure — revealing his signature uncanny smile that shows every gleaming tooth in his mouth. Caius knows it all too well.

“I am pleased that we are united in our opinion on the matter.” Aro muses, folding his hands neatly behind his back. “Though I must add that I don’t believe force will be the most effective way of keeping our daughter here following her return. She is a sensitive soul, you know that, and what sort of fathers would we be if we punished her too harshly for running away? That will only reinforce what she has already convinced herself. We must be more subtle with our approach.”

Caius frowns, but doesn’t immediately shoot down the suggestion. Despite their many differences in judgment, he knows that Aro is a better strategist than he is, which is certainly useful in a situation like this.

“Perhaps,” Caius says slowly, “although we cannot be too lenient. She needs to see that what she has done is unacceptable.”

Aro’s eyes, which have returned to a rich shade of burgundy, gleam with anticipation. He nods with a childlike level of eagerness that would certainly come across as offputting were Caius not used to his brother’s strange behaviour by now. “Yes, of course, discipline is necessary for all children. We will make sure that [Name] learns her place.”

Caius’s posture slackens by just a fraction, feeling himself strangely soothed by the prospect of punishing you. Usually the thrill comes from inflicting the pain itself, but this time it’s different. He doesn’t want to hurt you, or at least, he doesn’t want to hurt you significantly. This is about conditioning desired behaviour: training you like one of Skinner’s rats to ensure that you never think about leaving again.

“You speak as though you already have a plan.” Caius finally replies, “What is it you intend to do when she is returned to us?”

Aro subtly angles his head back towards the queens, who remain stiffly perched on their respective seats. Caius follows his gaze and accidentally catches Athenodora’s eye. She shoots him a pleading frown, which he pointedly ignores. Of course his wife would be against the idea of them punishing you for this; she seems to have made it her life mission to oppose every decision he makes.

“Let us discuss this outside,” Aro answers carefully, “for it is a delicate matter, and Marcus will want to know as well.”

Caius nods wordlessly and exchanges a knowing look with his brother. Suddenly it all makes sense. All of this moral righteousness has merely been a facade. Aro will happily play diplomat to keep the rest of the coven placated, whilst turning a blind eye to whatever Caius may do when you return. He recognises the need for correction more than he’s been letting on in front of the others, maintaining his merciful image perfectly. The offer is clear: bear the brunt of whatever hostilities arise, and I will turn a blind eye to everything you do.

Tag list: @mentalinsatabilityatitsfineposts @dgwsstuff

The porch creeked under the soft padding of their best friend. No matter how hard they tried to be quiet, the porch seemed to be a built-in alarm.

"Psst," Friend unnecessarily whispered. "Wanna get fucked up?"

"Do I ever not?" The vampire whispers back equally unnecessary. Super hearing and all that jazz.

Now, forty minutes later, the pool table became an impromptu counter.

The paper mache bats strewn about all over were a product of friend's intoxication. Every time they got drunk, they wanted to paper mache.

So the vampire sat and drank a vodka and coke they'd mixed for themselves.

Friend preferred tequila mixed with all kinds nonsense to make it old-fashioned.

Friend's long hair always fell in their face, so the vampire had clumsily pulled it up.

Never having been around anyone with long hair for their foreseeable future, they'd better start learning, or that's what Friend told them.

But something glinting caught their eyes. Scissors. When did Friend find the scissors?

They'd made sure to cut up all the supplies that need to be cut before they started drinking. Friend hadn't been watching them, or so they'd thought...

"What're you doin'? You don't need those." The vampire hollars suddenly rousing their lean friend.

Who'd been nearly stabbing themselves with the scissors trying to cut towards themselves.

"I'm cutting!" They hollared back with renewed vigor and a jolt.

A jolt that send the tip of the dual blades down their forearm.

Though nothing was pierced, luckily, there was still a mile long scratch with blood welling up.

Friend kissed their teeth, sloppily taking some colored tissue paper to the cut.

The vampire gave up watching the television, the music videos forgotten in favor of preying on helping their friend.

Who was audibly chocking back cries suddenly terrified by whatever they saw, looking back at them.

A picture-perfect predator, apex to the rest.

Author's Note: Thank you for your ask 😄