An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/2
Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Ironhide/Ratchet (Transformers)
Characters: Ratchet (Transformers), Ironhide (Transformers), Optimus Prime, Jazz (Transformers), Prowl (Transformers), Kup (Transformers)
Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Disagreements, Soldiers vs Healers
Series: Part 3 of Random IronRatch Oneshots
Summary:
Ratchet wanted them to uphold their morals. Ironhide just wanted to stop losing soldiers.
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NSFW- Contains, blood, gore and sexual themes that are explicit.
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I haven’t edited this I’ve literally just finished writing this on the train to Whitby so please enjoy 😂😅
If the formatting is fucky blame tumblr mobile and Google Docs!
———
Oh, we've got you by the throat
Ha-ha-ha, all you wanna be...
“I see, we share a face, a certain taste… this is where our similarities end. Another bore to endure at the behest of a higher power.” Aro sighs as he speaks his thoughts aloud, while he is not alone the words are not for the onlookers.
“What trick is this, you take my face and spit nonsense like bile.” The man below him, also Aro but from another life, another time… a universe so utterly identical in everything aside from the embellished flaws of men displayed like the feathers of peacock for all to marvel in awe at.
“Does the timbre of your voice match mine in intimate moments, I wonder?” There is a glint of interest in his eyes as he speaks to the man still trapped between his thighs as he straddles his identical counterpart
“What exactly are you implying is about to happen?”
Before either Aro could speak another word, a tired voice from the doorway interrupts, as does the sound of a lighter flaring to life and the first sensual crackling burn of a cigarette. The acrid smell of tobacco smoke fills the air almost instantly.
“He wants to know how you sound when you’re fuckin’.” Garrett exhales the deep lungful of smoke he had taken a second before speaking and flicks his dead-eyed gaze to the other Garrett.
“You’re a vampire, right?” This world’s Garrett, the other Garrett, the man identical to him in everything but the deathly pallor of his skin and the razor fangs, nods but doesn’t appear happy about it.
“Are you just gunna let him pin my husband down like that?”
Another deep inhale of cigarette smoke before he and his Aro share an empty half-crazed laugh. The room is hazy with the smoke now and their counterparts look uncomfortable, Aro more so, but he is being pinned to the bed by a vampire that somehow has strength in him that he could never hope of attaining for himself.
“Hey, I'm the only human in this room and you want me to wrestle a vampire off your husband? Just let him fuck him, otherwise, it’ll be worse for all of us.” No inflection in his voice as he continues to smoke and he doesn’t bother to grace vampire Garrett with his eye contact.
The cigarette is stubbed out on the stone wall, and the protests from one of the Aro’s go unnoticed, but he does watch with curiosity as other Garrett strides across the room toward the bed.
His hand is barely on Aro’s shoulder before he is blinking up at the ceiling and the dust of the stone floor is settling around him from the impact his body made with the ground.
“Told you…” Lighter flare, cigarette lit, and a long exhale before he decides to step over the vampire and take a seat by the shuttered window. “You should probably stay down there if you don’t want to see anything.”
His words are answered with a snarl but nothing more as the vampire gets ups from the floor brushing himself as he does so.
“Well, while you boys bond, I will take my time here with my… twin. Ahahaha!” Thrilled with his own joke Aro took no time in leaning down to press a deep and bruising kiss to the other’s lips, his fangs cutting into the soft flesh as the man below him struggled against his strength.
“You cannot hide your thoughts from me, you cannot hide what you want from yourself. You are an intelligent man are you not?” The kiss broke and blood and venom dripped from rapidly healing wounds as the man below him was mocked without mercy.
“I see everything inside you. I know you, I am you. Aro Volturi you see your own reflection in your own eyes. You are afraid of that which you see above you now but you are curious. Do you want to fuck me? I know that you do, you cannot hide your thoughts from yourself. I’ll tear you open and take it all from you and make you cum while I do it.”
There is the sound of fabric tearing, the dull whump! of clothing discarded to the floor before a surprised groan fills the air followed by the delighted hiss of pleasure.
“Are we just supposed to wait for them to be done?” The irritation in Garrett’s voice is mingled with a jealous pain that paints a picture of a bruised and bloody ego along with a heart straining to overcome something it has no control over.
“You don’t have to stick around, the choice is yours.” The cigarette other Garrett is smoking is nearly down to the filter again, though he isn’t paying attention.
Both men are steadfastly ignoring the moans coming from the bed, and the sound of a slick cunt being filled willingly after putting up very little fight.
“We… ah-! We are not the same.” Aro’s hands are gripping the sheets pulling them taut until they tear, but he was desperate to voice his observation.
“An obvious deviation from the template, yes. But a welcome one I am sure, as the moans you offer as supplication for your cock to be buried so deeply inside me give away your base desires as just as mine are.” He does not change his pace as he speaks, the slow rise and agonising slide down the throbbing length.
“Eloquent and yet staggeringly- ah! A-staggeringly vulgar.” It was surely hard for him to concentrate when the pleasure centres in his brain were on overdrive.
“Yes, I hear you from within. How much you want to cum inside me, claim me and perhaps I’ll let you.” A smile plays on his lips as he leans forward, hands on Aro’s chest, his nails digging into the pale flesh hard enough that blood wells up in the indents and slowly spills over leaving crimson trails over his skin.
His pleasure mingled with Aro’s as well as his underlying fear made for a heady mix. And soon his moans became louder, unstable like the howl of a terrible feral creature, his talon like nails digging deeper into other Aro’s skin, more blood wells up now a steady stream and moans become breathless and short.
“Oh, you enjoy this. We share the same tastes and the flavour is exquisite when I can taste it through another. You’re afraid and aroused, I can feel you’re on the edge…” The pace quickens and his grip is relinquished to lean back and paw at his clit uncaring for the rhythm as he chased his own pleasure.
“Make me cum, Aro. Fuck me hard the way you wish to, release your iron grip on decorum and lose your senses inside me.”
“This is unbearable-! How are you so calm about this?” Garrett is pacing by the door, he looks as though he is about to leave but feels too uneasy about the situation to allow his husband to leave his line of sight.
The conversation they would have after this would be a strange one, interesting to anyone on the outside looking in but painful for the two of them.
“You’re getting all worked up over nothing. It’s just sex, it’s meaningless, and I’m calm because I don’t give a fuck what he does. This is just who he is; a fucked up demon that follows any whim that comes to mind.
I mean, he doesn’t normally think with his cunt but I’m not really interested in how he thinks these days.” Another cigarette, and Garrett wants to tell the human version of himself to slow down to think of his health but it looks as though it would fall on deaf ears or… wilful apathy.
“Sure…” He turns away just in time to see other Aro beckoning his Garrett towards him and he hears the creak of the antique couch as the human dutifully obeys.
They share a kiss, hard and rough and when Garrett pulls away his lips are bloody but his pupils are blown wide and leans down to press another kiss to the cold lips he was so violently obsessed with.
“The cigarette smoke on your breath disgusts me, you disgust me, my lion,” Aro is purring his words as he continues to ride his doppelgänger into the mattress.
“Aro, fuck you.”
“Later, I’m not quite done here, my lion.”
The exchange over, Garrett moves back to his seat but he is restless now, his skin is flushed and he fidgets clearly aroused but he doesn’t say anything and he keeps his gaze firmly on his Aro.
“I-I’m so close…”
“Cum inside me, make it worth it.”
The purr is still in his voice and he leans down once again to press a kiss Aro’s lips before sliding slender fingers around his neck and squeezing tight.
It did not seem to bother the Aro that is being pressed into the bed surrounded by torn bed sheets. It spurred him on and his hips buck without any sort of rhythm as he cums hard, the Aro above him finishing at the same time with a long groan, his hands still around Aro’s neck.
“Good they’re done. You guys can get ready to leave now.” Garrett was itching to retrieve his husband from the clutches of the feral clone that had so thoroughly fucked him.
“They’re not done.”
“But they both… you know?”
“They’re not done.” Garrett didn’t even look at that world's version of him as he spoke. Though, he wasn’t looking at the two Aro’s either, rather through them with a haunted expression mingled with the bored acceptance that what was to come to pass would be impossible to intervene in.
Aro’s hands tighten again and finally the man below him began to struggle, his hands clamped around his wrists in a bid to extract himself but to no avail.
“Oh do fight, it makes it much better for the both of us.”
A moment of silence before the sickening crack of bones and the wet sound of tearing flesh and veins pervaded the air.
The sound of such an indecent moan followed and both Garretts watched in horrified silence as Aro slid off the bed holding his twins head a loft with unhinged triumph.
“Hmmm a satisfying end for both of us, now we return home, my lion.”
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She had heard the rumors, she had heard Carlisle's contradictions, she had checked the future obsessively and day after day, her curiosity grew.
"Please, my king," she pled her case, having practiced her words a million times with Jasper at home.
Aro had sat at the hearing room thoughtfully, never interrupting her long narration of why. "There is never a thing worth finding in the past, youngling," he warned her with all the kindness he had.
She insisted and he yielded, standing up and leading the pair to his own private chambers. "This will be uncomfortable for both you and me," he said and started getting himself ready. He removed his jacket, pulled two chairs from the corners close to each other, tied his hair back. Caius entered the room after a timid knock, and gave Aro his own carved silver bottle that he had just filled with fresh blood. "And I suggest you drink. You will need all the strength you can get." He extended the bottle first towards her, as Caius took his place behind Aro's seat.
Alice eyed the bottle, weighing her options. On one hand, she could not afford to offend the king, on the other...
But Aro only gave her so much time, before retracting his hand and opening the bottle for himself. He was so quick the Cullen kids hardly had the chance to enjoy the scent.
Aro took his seat. "What you're asking from me is not easy. My experience says what the mind deems unworthy of remembering should stay that way. Sit." The order was clear and Alice lowered herself to the other chair immediately. "As you start remembering I will be seeing everything twice, which is -as you know- confusing. That is why Caius is here. You are not in any danger. Do not pull away from me, for as long as you possibly can." Aro was precise and to the point, but there was nothing unkind in his voice. If anything, he sounded reluctant even know, secretly wishing Alice would change her mind.
"I understand. Thank you, my king," she said unwavering. Aro nearly sighed and turned to glance at Caius, waiting for him to motion he was ready. Caius nodded and so Aro outstretched his hand.
Alice lifted hers immediately but just before she made contact with his open palm she seemed to hesitate. She noticed the scarring on Aro's palm, intricate and deliberate, paler than the rest of skin, almost glowing. In the end, she wrapped her hand around his.
Contrary to what he usually did, Aro kept his palm lax and open. This was no interrogation, he needed not to rush at all. He needed to take his time and map out the entire of Alice's mind, find the missing parts and put them back in their rightful place. His eyes had drifted shut quickly and his head tilted to the side, towards her. Jasper was starting at the scene, mesmerized and slipping away into his own limitation, the kings' emotions foreign and thus, overwhelming. Caius stood quietly, listening to Aro's breathing. Soon, Aro groaned in discomfort, his other hand came forward and traced Alice's cheek, his fingers moving gently to smooth out her eyebrow and finally the middle of his palm made solid contact with her temple, fingers combing back her hair. Caius shifted a little, alerted by Aro's speeding breaths, and Jasper moved with him, terrified by the knowledge he was rendered useless by the mere presence of the other king.
Suddenly, Alice yelped, pulled away but Aro was quicker. The hand holding hers locked around it before she had moved it at all, and his other one pulled her even closer, until his forehead touched hers. She thrashed now, trying to get away from him, wailing. Jasper glanced at Caius and found his face twisted in pained patience. This was unpleasant for him as well. With a final wail, Aro pulled away form her, jumping up from his seat, knocking it down as he went. Jasper flinched as Alice latched onto him and he wrapped his arms around her, unable to give her any actual comfort, as he was still overwhelmed by the storm that was the two kings. He thought Aro looked... wild. He brought his scarred palms up to his own face and started digging his fangs onto the old lines, opening the wounds up desperately trying to let his blood out. Jasper watched Caius count the seconds patiently and he thought this must be a known consequence. Finally Caius moved, reaching and pulling Aro's hands away from his face, and onto his own. Forcing Aro into his own mind, forcing him into a familiar landscape and hoping Aro would find himself back to reality. Jasper felt his stomach drop upon realising, that for Caius at least, there was never any guarantee Aro would return whole.
Alice seemed to orient herself first, hugging Jasper more tightly and getting a hold of her tears. She shyly turned to look at the scene that had Jasper frozen: king Aro growling and trying to pull away from Caius' hold, far more like a feral animal than the refined and well contained king.
Caius' blond hair, his eyebrows, even his eyelashes were shining red when Aro finally stopped trying to get away from him. When he finally seemed to recognise him and remember where he was, what he was doing. He caught his breath as best as he could, and let Caius bear his weight for him. He turned to the younglings, exhausted and unhappy. "I'm sorry," he said to Alice and allowed Caius to lead him out of the room. Before closing the door, Caius spoke. "Stay as long as you need. Do not hesitate to ask the guards for anything."
The door was shut, allowing the pair the pretense of privacy. Jasper looked around as he waited for Alice to calm down and realised this couldn't be but Aro's own bedroom. Once Alice unlatched herself from his embrace, he asked, "Did it work?" Her gaze was sad, just as unhappy as Aro's had been, and she nodded.
It was not uncommon for Carlisle to spend hours upon hours in the library. The Volturi had an extensive collection of books and manuscripts and journals and the youngling was thirsty for all of it. Especially when he recognised Aro's handwriting. On the lines, on the sides, on pages added inside journals, on the fingerprints left on the cover. Carlisle hungered for it, needing to know what books Aro opened the most. Needing to know him.
At the end of the day, when the guards' shifts switched, Aro usually came to find him, and he sat like a parent listening to a toddler's stories of the day. Carlisle would tell him of all the things he found interesting, the things he disagreed with, he would respond to Aro's comments he found in the pages, he'd ask him to elaborate. He'd push a book to Aro to show him something specific, and Aro would lean closer and Carlisle's breath would hitch. If he got Aro to engage more passionately on something Carlisle would think about it for days.
One day, as he had exhausted a tome on the details of the first roman law, and he was picking up the second tome, he uncovered underneath it two leather-bound journals. He picked them up curiously, turned them over in his hands. There was nothing on the cover and the leather string that kept them closed was dry and broke immediately. Undeterred but more careful, he unwrapped one and opened it. The pages were not something he had felt before. It wasn't paper, it wasn't even papyrus, it looked and felt handmade. Stiff and yellow, but surprisingly well preserved. He turned the pages carefully. The ink in it vibrant black but the writing unreadable. Incomprehensible to Carlisle both in form and tongue too. He thought it resembled latin but only if the person was illiterate. Still, he looked, marveling and wondering just how old this journal was. He turned another page and a set of eyes met his. He paused at that page and looked. And looked and looked and looked. The sketch was magnificent. Fine lines, and careful details painted a set of dark eyes, with thick eyebrows. The eyelashes were layered on with such care. The creases of the eyes betrayed the person must have been smiling, even if the bottom half of the face was not sketched. Carlisle looked at the man on the page longer, and longer, feeling almost reverent to be looking at someone so ancient who was deemed worthy to preserve in ink.
When Aro came to find him that day, Carlisle was giddy to show him the journal, to ask what it said, to ask who the sketch was representing. Aro had chuckled at first, informing him these were Caius' first journals. He kept notes on the guards and all vampires the Volturi encountered to better be able to do his part of the job. To better be able to train and lead soldiers. He told Carlisle it was in fact latin and that Caius was never taught to properly write. He did not mind to read the notes to Carlisle, but he doubted they would be of any interest. Carlisle had nodded, taking it all in. He liked it when Aro was so sharing with the information. He did not want to interrupt. Carlisle turned the next page, where the sketched eyes laid immortalised in ink. And he said:
"I didn't know Caius could draw."
Aro's face twisted. His brows came together and then apart. His lips pressed tightly and then released. His eyes narrowed and had a hard time relaxing again. "Oh, no I made that," he said. Even his voice sounded strained.
Carlisle looked at him now, taking his eyes off the sketch to meet Aro's. He read the grief that was written all over the ancient's face and he was genuinely sympathetic when he asked: "Who is it?" He reached instinctively to hold Aro's hand, forgetting for a moment Aro never let him. But Aro didn't pull back this time. He only gave Carlisle a strained smile.
"That's Abraham," he said and Carlisle was nodding at him with compassion and understanding. "My husband, when I was mortal."
Carlisle froze. He blinked at Aro for a moment too long and Aro began to pull his hand away. For the shortest moment, Carlisle tried to think how his father used to be so good at handling others' grief and he was fumbling his first ever call for condolences. He tightened his hold over Aro's hand.
"I'm sorry for your loss," he said sincerely.
Aro gave him a sad little chuckle. "Thank you. I don't tend to think about him."
She had heard the rumors, she had heard Carlisle's contradictions, she had checked the future obsessively and day after day, her curiosity grew.
"Please, my king," she pled her case, having practiced her words a million times with Jasper at home.
Aro had sat at the hearing room thoughtfully, never interrupting her long narration of why. "There is never a thing worth finding in the past, youngling," he warned her with all the kindness he had.
She insisted and he yielded, standing up and leading the pair to his own private chambers. "This will be uncomfortable for both you and me," he said and started getting himself ready. He removed his jacket, pulled two chairs from the corners close to each other, tied his hair back. Caius entered the room after a timid knock, and gave Aro his own carved silver bottle that he had just filled with fresh blood. "And I suggest you drink. You will need all the strength you can get." He extended the bottle first towards her, as Caius took his place behind Aro's seat.
Alice eyed the bottle, weighing her options. On one hand, she could not afford to offend the king, on the other...
But Aro only gave her so much time, before retracting his hand and opening the bottle for himself. He was so quick the Cullen kids hardly had the chance to enjoy the scent.
Aro took his seat. "What you're asking from me is not easy. My experience says what the mind deems unworthy of remembering should stay that way. Sit." The order was clear and Alice lowered herself to the other chair immediately. "As you start remembering I will be seeing everything twice, which is -as you know- confusing. That is why Caius is here. You are not in any danger. Do not pull away from me, for as long as you possibly can." Aro was precise and to the point, but there was nothing unkind in his voice. If anything, he sounded reluctant even know, secretly wishing Alice would change her mind.
"I understand. Thank you, my king," she said unwavering. Aro nearly sighed and turned to glance at Caius, waiting for him to motion he was ready. Caius nodded and so Aro outstretched his hand.
Alice lifted hers immediately but just before she made contact with his open palm she seemed to hesitate. She noticed the scarring on Aro's palm, intricate and deliberate, paler than the rest of skin, almost glowing. In the end, she wrapped her hand around his.
Contrary to what he usually did, Aro kept his palm lax and open. This was no interrogation, he needed not to rush at all. He needed to take his time and map out the entire of Alice's mind, find the missing parts and put them back in their rightful place. His eyes had drifted shut quickly and his head tilted to the side, towards her. Jasper was starting at the scene, mesmerized and slipping away into his own limitation, the kings' emotions foreign and thus, overwhelming. Caius stood quietly, listening to Aro's breathing. Soon, Aro groaned in discomfort, his other hand came forward and traced Alice's cheek, his fingers moving gently to smooth out her eyebrow and finally the middle of his palm made solid contact with her temple, fingers combing back her hair. Caius shifted a little, alerted by Aro's speeding breaths, and Jasper moved with him, terrified by the knowledge he was rendered useless by the mere presence of the other king.
Suddenly, Alice yelped, pulled away but Aro was quicker. The hand holding hers locked around it before she had moved it at all, and his other one pulled her even closer, until his forehead touched hers. She thrashed now, trying to get away from him, wailing. Jasper glanced at Caius and found his face twisted in pained patience. This was unpleasant for him as well. With a final wail, Aro pulled away form her, jumping up from his seat, knocking it down as he went. Jasper flinched as Alice latched onto him and he wrapped his arms around her, unable to give her any actual comfort, as he was still overwhelmed by the storm that was the two kings. He thought Aro looked... wild. He brought his scarred palms up to his own face and started digging his fangs onto the old lines, opening the wounds up desperately trying to let his blood out. Jasper watched Caius count the seconds patiently and he thought this must be a known consequence. Finally Caius moved, reaching and pulling Aro's hands away from his face, and onto his own. Forcing Aro into his own mind, forcing him into a familiar landscape and hoping Aro would find himself back to reality. Jasper felt his stomach drop upon realising, that for Caius at least, there was never any guarantee Aro would return whole.
Alice seemed to orient herself first, hugging Jasper more tightly and getting a hold of her tears. She shyly turned to look at the scene that had Jasper frozen: king Aro growling and trying to pull away from Caius' hold, far more like a feral animal than the refined and well contained king.
Caius' blond hair, his eyebrows, even his eyelashes were shining red when Aro finally stopped trying to get away from him. When he finally seemed to recognise him and remember where he was, what he was doing. He caught his breath as best as he could, and let Caius bear his weight for him. He turned to the younglings, exhausted and unhappy. "I'm sorry," he said to Alice and allowed Caius to lead him out of the room. Before closing the door, Caius spoke. "Stay as long as you need. Do not hesitate to ask the guards for anything."
The door was shut, allowing the pair the pretense of privacy. Jasper looked around as he waited for Alice to calm down and realised this couldn't be but Aro's own bedroom. Once Alice unlatched herself from his embrace, he asked, "Did it work?" Her gaze was sad, just as unhappy as Aro's had been, and she nodded.
My Roman Empire is that most of the Volturi member’s names in twilight wouldn’t be their actual given names.
◽️Aro: Akrodamos, Aristandros or Arandros.
After some googling, Aristandros seems the most plausible? Meaning “Best man” or “Excellent Man”.
Aro’s era was Mycenaean Greece. Their script was Linear B, this offered the first written records of the Greek language and from what I’ve read Aro would be a shorten version of Aristandros.
◽️Caius: Kassondros, Gaius
So Caius is actually a Latin name (Gaius), it wouldn’t have existed in 1300 BC and certainly not in Mycenaean Greece. Caius probably would have changed his name. After some more googling, the authentic Mycenaean Greek name that could have at least evolved or be changed into Caius would be Kassandros.
◽️Marcus: Areimenes, Makhawon.
Again Marcus is from Latin origin 😭 If we take the Roman god of war, Mars, the equivalent in 1300bc Greece would be Ares. Following that, it could have been Areimenes. However if you want the same “Ma” sound then Makhawon is more fitting, derived from the word makhe meaning “battle”.
◽️Jane: Iohanna, Jehanne.
The name Jane didn’t exist until centuries after 800AD (when she was born). She was born to an Anglo-Saxon woman and Frankish soilder father. Iohanna would be rare in Anglo-Saxon England, but her father being Frankish could bring in some Latin names. This name would have evolved into Jane. Jehanne is the older French form of Iohannes. The name would have still been uncommon but with Frankish influence could be plausible? Only issue is most Jehannes are documented way later than 800 AD.
◽️Alec: Alexander/Alric.
OK HEAR ME OUT!! Alexander would have been rare for English commoners but with his father being a Frankish soilder, a more Roman sounding name like Alexander would have fit. Frankish empire obsessed with Roman heritage so it could have fit? But a more Saxon name would have been Alric, more acceptable for locality. Personally I like both, I suppose Alric would fit better historically.
Disclaimer❕I am in no way, shape or form a history expert, I just enjoy learning about history as a pastime, therefore created my following thoughts and analysis on the Volturi coven from twilight❕
Yes, he can read your mind so thoroughly you will not distinguish him from yourself. Yes, he can see your deepest thoughts, most personal memories and experience your life as if he himself has lived it. Yes, to be known like this is uncomfortable,
But it is not terrifying.
If his powers ended at "witnessing", he'd be no more useful than a skilled spy. If there was no danger, every vampire who had lost their memories after turning would be queuing at his door for a moment of his time. To enter their minds and open the locked doors for them would be no more than a short inconvenience, and a king who values their people would readily devote a few minutes of his evenings to the duty.
But there are no vampires at his door.
And everyone with half a brain that finds themselves at the palace keeps their eyes to the floor, their words measured and pray the king takes no interest in them.
Because they know. They know, because they have seen.
There used to be a coven with a leader so unruly, so unpredictable, and so influential that the Volturi knew not how to address. A threat that was growing by the day, but one they could not execute without an uprising. And so the coven got an invite to the palace, a promised calm conversation, a modest feast and perhaps a treaty.
The coven came, highly suspicious, armed and prepared to refuse every deal the Volturi offered.
But the Volturi did not have to offer anything other than a handshake.
The leader, prepared as ever but lacking in intel, reached forward to Aro's extended hand. There was nothing Aro could see in their mind that was an esteemed secret.
And Aro shook his hand, no less and no more than perfectly timed, and when he let go the leader was no more.
In his briefest exploration of the foreign mind he locked every door on every path he ran along on. He shut every window, drew very curtain, blew out each candle, and exited gracefully with none the wiser that their beloved leader had been entirely unmade.
So complete was his erasure that the Volturi did not need to execute a single vampire in that coven. They let them drink and feast as promised, and made them sign no treaty. But without a head, the snake can't but wither. Everyone who tried telling the leader who they used to be, what they were striving for and what has been done to them failed. In the place of the fiery rebel was now and forever a calm and rather hopeful vampire. Rootless and adrift and most importantly harmless. They lived for a long time. Joined another coven who had heard their past name, but did not know their face, who took them in as if they were merely a newborn robbed. They even promised their new member that one of the Volturi kings could help them remember.
Every coven who had considered joining in that rebel's efforts fell quiet. Followed the new laws obediently. Did not create problems. Did not present themselves as a threat.
And there was peace.
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I love when Destruction speaks of the Endless shaping the opposite of their function, aka Death - Life/ Dream - Reality. Their duel nature that, possibly with the exception of Death and Destruction...They're all still remarkably un-self aware about. I honestly think the key to them being happy, well rounded anthropomorphic personifications is the acceptance of their opposing role. But that's a headcannon for another day.
When it's discussed, Desire always gets hatred as their opposing function... And it's just never sat right with me. I get it, the opposite of to Desire something can be distaste, unwanted vereses want. Thus hatred of a thing. But... Hatred is more then that, it's deeper than to not want. It's the all encompassing opposite of to Love. So either Desire does have dominion over all areas of the heart and is both Love and Desire....
"Love is stronger then desire."
But Desire shook their head. "They are the same thing."
The Sandman Book of Dreams
"For love is no part of the dreamworld. Love belongs to Desire, and Desire is always cruel."
The Sandman Vol. 2: The Doll's House
But I don't think that's it. I think the answer may lay with Despair. The Twins are connected, one being split into two. Despair feeds Desire, Desire feeds Despair. Their functions intertwine in an inseparable way. The same should be true then of their reverse nature's. Hatred and Hope... Nice repeating Hs but there's no natural flow. I'd argue Desire's opposite is the lack of want, fulfillment. Essentially, to be at peace with what you have.
In Buddhist teachings by achieving a mental state where you can detach from all the passions, needs and wants of life, you free yourself and achieve a state of transcendent bliss and well-being. Aka... You shift from Desire, to Peace.
Now Hope and Peace, they go hand in hand. A natural flow from one to the other. With Hope comes Peace, with Peace comes Hope. They could be one golden, glowing, angelic being split down the middle.
So they're you have it, the Endless Twins...
Despair - Hope
Desire - Peace
Ps: I love the fandoms creation of Hope!Hob. But god do I love so much more the notion that Despair not only has the capacity within her to be Hope, but could one day reach a point where she could embody Hope of the Endless too.
“Three things will last forever--faith, hope, and love. ”
"The three virtues (faith, hope, and love) represent the finest qualities of humanity. Through which, man can share in the nature of the divine. These three virtues allow true believers to merit eternal life."
Having another play with the virtures headcanon beacuse it keeps niggling away at the pack of my brain.
The show gives us two human characters who beautifully encompass Hope and Love...And strangely enough mirror their Endless partners beautifully. Obviously Hob is Hope to his core, so we have Dream and Hope. And throughout her entire arc Unity represents Love. Romantic love for Desire, maternal/familial love for her grandchildren. All perpetual and true. Thus Desire and Love.
But who would be the final pair of Faith and (....) be? My thoughts were Death/Johanna Constantine... Based on, 'Death is the ultimate test of Faith'. And boy does that lass face death. But I'm not 100%... 🤔
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