#caius

You were Aro's beloved niece.

Sometimes, you were all the King talked about. Photos you'd sent of places you'd been, people you'd met, people you'd eaten (though Uncle Aro didn't typically encourage reckless behavior, it was quite impressive). Besides, you always cleaned up your messes.

And eventually, you always returned home.

And here you were, after close to 70 years. Pushing the doors to the throne room open, a bright beaming smile on your pointed teeth. You dropped your bags onto the porcelain floor with no shyness, looking straight up at your uncle. You ignored the other two on the thrones, not bothering with introductions. After all, your uncle had never allowed you to formally meet them. Not until you got old enough, of course.. Ironic considering how ancient you truly were.

"Dear Y/n!" Your uncle nearly squealed with delight, erupting off from his throne in flight. When he reached the floor, you pulled him into a tight hug.

Caius Volturi remained on his throne, arching a snowy eyebrow. Hugs. Aro typically despised them. He'd throw someone's head against a wall for even attempting to make contact with his pure velvet cloak.

He studied you while you greeted. You certainly looked the part. Long, black hair cascading down your back. Bright red eyes. A jaw droppingly gorgeous face, made to be a very alluring monster.

Aro held you at arm's length, his crimson eyes sparkling with genuine delight. "Seventy years, and you look more radiant than ever, my dear! The world agrees with you, it seems."

"The world is a fascinating buffet, Uncle," you replied, your voice a melodic hum that echoed pleasantly in the vast chamber. "But even the most exciting buffet grows tiresome. I missed home." Your gaze finally drifted from Aro, sweeping over the other two thrones. Your eyes lingered on Marcus for a moment, acknowledging his eternal, melancholic silence with a slight, respectful nod, before they landed on Caius.

And stayed there.

He was exactly as Aro had described in his letters: severe, pale as a marble statue, with an aura of pure, unadulterated frost. His white hair was like a crown of ice, and his golden eyes held a permanent, simmering irritation. He looked… challenging. And you had never been one to back down from a challenge.

Aro, ever the perceptive showman, saw the flicker of interest in your eyes. A slow, cunning smile spread across his lips. "Ah, but where are my manners! Y/n, you have been away so long, you have not been properly introduced to my dear brothers. You know Marcus, of course." He gestured vaguely. "And this," he said, his tone dripping with theatrical importance, "is Caius. The sharp edge of our justice. The fire to my… intellect."

The same kind of smile snaked across your lips as you analyzed Caius further.

You took a step forward, your movements fluid and utterly un-intimidated by the imposing throne room or its icy king. "Caius," you repeated, your voice tasting the name. "My uncle has written so much about you. Though, I suspect he left out the best parts."

Caius did not move. He simply stared down at you, his expression one of profound boredom laced with a hint of contempt. "Did he," he stated flatly. It wasn't a question.

"Indeed," you continued, undeterred. You circled slightly, your eyes tracing the lines of his throne, his posture, his face. "He mentioned your… fervor for order. Your distaste for chaos. He failed to mention how the light catches your hair. It's like freshly fallen snow."

A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of Caius's mouth was your only reward. Behind you, Aro made a sound somewhere between a cough and a chuckle, quickly disguising it by clasping his hands together.

"Caius, my brother, do not be so stern! My niece has just returned. She brings fresh perspectives from the outside world," Aro chimed in, the picture of innocence. "Y/n, you must tell us of your travels. Caius is particularly interested in the… disciplinary measures of other covens. Aren't you, brother?"

Caius’s golden eyes narrowed slightly, shooting a silent warning at Aro. "My interests are in effective rule, not tourist anecdotes."

"But discipline can be so… nuanced," you purred, stopping directly before his throne and looking up at him. The height difference was significant, but you held your ground, your stance confident. "In the East, I learned a technique for interrogation that involves a single, precise needle and the slow drip of venom. It’s not about pain, you see. It’s about anticipation. The mind breaks long before the body. I thought it might appeal to your… sensibilities."

For the first time, his gaze shifted from one of pure dismissal to one of analytical consideration. He was, if nothing else, a connoisseur of punishment. He leaned forward ever so slightly, the movement so minimal it would have been missed by a human eye.

"Anticipation is a worthless tool if the subject lacks the imagination to be terrified," he countered, his voice a low growl.

"Then you find a way to inspire their imagination," you countered smoothly, a sly smile playing on your lips. "It's a art form. Perhaps I could demonstrate sometime."

The sexual tension in the air was now as thick as the ancient stone walls. Aro looked like a cat that had gotten not only the cream but the entire dairy. He had thrown a spark into a room full of kindling, and you were happily fanning the flames.

Caius leaned back again, the brief moment of engagement over. He looked away from you, as if you had suddenly become a mildly irritating stain on his vision. "Your travels have made you bold, child. And talkative."

You laughed, a sound like chiming bells that seemed horribly out of place in the grim hall. "I'm centuries old, Caius. Hardly a child. But if you'd prefer I act like one, I can start by pestering you relentlessly until you pay attention to me. I'm told I can be very persistent."

You turned on your heel, your long hair swishing behind you, and picked up your bags. "It's been a delight, truly. Uncle, I'll be in my usual chambers. Caius," you said, throwing a final, challenging look over your shoulder. "I look forward to… boring you with more of my anecdotes soon."

As you swept out of the throne room, leaving a trail of disruptive energy in your wake, Aro floated back to his throne, humming with satisfaction.

Caius finally spoke, his voice cold and hard. "You brought that here on purpose, Aro."

Aro's smile was wide and unapologetic. "My dear brother, the castle has been so dreadfully quiet. I merely thought it needed a bit of life. And who better than my dear, persistent niece to provide it? Do try to play nice."

Caius said nothing, but his knuckles were white where they gripped the arm of his throne. He stared at the spot where you had stood, the ghost of your impertinent smile and the echo of your laugh seared into his mind. It was going to be a very, very long eternity.

It became your new favorite game: finding Caius. He was a creature of rigid habit, and after a week, you had his schedule memorized. Your favorite place to ambush him was the ancient, cavernous library, where he would often review centuries-old decrees.

You found him there, silhouetted against a towering stained-glass window, a scroll in his hands. You didn't speak. Instead, you drifted to a shelf nearby, pretending to browse. You selected a heavy tome on medieval torture methods — a subject you knew he respected — and leaned against the shelves, reading aloud a particularly gruesome passage about the Judas Cradle.

Your voice was low, melodic, giving the horrific description a sensual, rhythmic quality. You let your scent, a unique blend of night-blooming jasmine and cold, ancient stone, waft towards him. You felt the air shift, a subtle tightening that indicated he was listening, despite his perfectly still posture.

After a long moment, he lowered the scroll. "The historical account is inaccurate," he stated, his back still to you. "The angle of descent was steeper. The point, blunter. It was not about slow impalement, but about the explosive rupture of internal organs. The author was a romantic."

You smiled, closing the book. "A pity. I rather liked the slow, theatricality of it. But I defer to your expertise." You took a step closer. "Perhaps you could give me a private lesson on the correct application? I'm a visual learner."

Caius finally turned. His golden eyes were like shards of topaz, cold and hard. "I am not a tutor for bored nieces with too much time on their hands. Go pester your uncle."

He turned back to the window, dismissing you as completely as if you’d vanished. The rejection was absolute, a door slammed in your face. But as you left the library, you didn't feel defeated. You saw the way his fingers had tightened on the parchment, crinkling the edge. He had heard you. He had corrected you. It was a start.

Next, you found him walking the perimeter of the inner courtyard, a nightly patrol he undertook alone. The moon was full, bathing the stone paths in silver. You fell into step beside him, not saying a word for several laps. The only sounds were the soft fall of your feet and the distant chatter of the guard.

"You know," you began, your voice soft against the night, "in my travels, I met a coven in the Amazon. They believed that walking in silence with someone under a full moon created a bond stronger than blood. That their souls would intertwine."

Caius didn't even glance at you. "Superstitious nonsense."

"Perhaps," you conceded. "But it's a beautiful thought, isn't it? That without a single word, you could become tied to another for eternity." You let your hand brush against his cloak as you walked, the faintest whisper of contact.

He stopped dead. The air around him grew frigid. "Your attempts at seduction are as subtle as a thunderclap," he snarled, finally looking at you. His gaze was furious, but in the moonlight, you caught something else, a flicker of raw, primal awareness. "You smell of desperation. I have no interest in bonds, beautiful thoughts, or the childish games of a fledgling who has seen too much of the world and understood too little of it."

You smiled in his face innocently, your eyes peering up at him unbothered.

He turned and strode away, his form disappearing into the shadows of the castle walls. The insult should have stung, but it only made your unbeating heart thrill. Furious was better than bored. He was feeling something. You had gotten under his skin.

Finally, you tried once more.

This was his most sacred space. The map-strewn table, the battle plans, the seat of his power as a military strategist. You entered without knocking, finding him leaning over a map of Northern Europe, his brow furrowed.

"Aro said you might need a fresh perspective on the Balkan situation," you announced, moving to the opposite side of the table.

His head snapped up. "Get out."

"I know the terrain," you continued, ignoring him and pointing to a mountain range. "I spent twenty years there. The local covens don't fight by your rules. They use the humans as shields. They—"

"I said, get out!" he roared, slamming his fist on the table. The stone cracked under the impact. The sound echoed through the room like a gunshot. He was across the table in a blur, his face inches from yours, his features a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. "You think your pretty face and your stories give you the right to invade my space? To speak on matters of strategy? You are a distraction. A nuisance. Aro's indulgence is the only reason you are still breathing in my presence."

You didn't flinch. You held his fiery gaze, your own expression calm. The sheer force of his anger was intoxicating. This was the real Caius, the storm beneath the ice.

"You can yell all you want, Caius," you said, your voice as cold as steel. "But it doesn't change the fact that I'm the only one in this castle who isn't afraid of you."

For a long, charged moment, you stared at each other. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the desire to simply snap your neck warring with something else, something he refused to name. With a sound of utter disgust, he turned and stormed from the room, leaving you alone with the cracked table and the scent of his fury hanging in the air.

It was his strongest resistance yet. You were sure you had lost. In fact, you were ready to switch your attention to something else.

Caius was gorgeous, yes. A prize. Something you had your eyes set on more than anything else.

But there were other men in the world. Not as beautiful or interesting as Caius, but.. Close.

For days, you let him be. You were either exploring the mountains of Italy, hunting human prey, reading the millions of books that your uncle had to offer you, or ordering expensive silks and velvets from the tailor to boost your self esteem (not that you needed it much.)

It was past midnight when a silent presence at your door pulled you from your thoughts. You opened it to find Caius. He wasn't raging. He wasn't cold. He looked… weary. And resolved.

He didn't wait for an invitation. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft, final click. The room suddenly felt very small.

"I have resisted you," he stated, his voice low and rough, as if the words were being torn from him. "I have insulted you. I have threatened you. I have banished you from my sight."

"You have," you agreed, your heart a still, silent stone in your chest, waiting.

He took a step closer, his golden eyes burning in the dim light. "You are a plague. A persistent, maddening, insufferable plague upon my existence."

You said nothing, simply watching him.

"And yet," he continued, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again, "I find my thoughts are of nothing else. Your voice. Your scent. Your infernal impertinence."

He closed the final distance between you. He didn't reach for you, not yet. He simply stood there, allowing you to feel the full force of his presence, his centuries of power, his surrender.

"The bond under the full moon," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "A foolish superstition."

"Utter nonsense," you breathed.

His hand came up, his cold fingers gently tracing the line of your jaw. The touch was electric, a shockwave after so much resistance. "Then it seems our souls will have to intertwine the old-fashioned way."

And finally, after weeks of chasing and four brutal rejections, Caius Volturi bent his head and captured your lips with his. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a conquest and a surrender all at once, a release of seventy years of tension. It was full of anger, and frustration, and a raw, undeniable need that had finally, irrevocably, caved.

A sound, half-gasp, half-moan, escaped you. The challenge in you, the one that had teased and provoked him, sparked to life one last time. Your hands came up, not to pull him closer, but to push against his chest. It was a futile, reflexive act of defiance.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, a sound of pure, predatory triumph. He captured your wrists in one of his large, cold hands, pinning them easily against the stone wall behind you. The movement was fluid, effortless, a stark reminder of the immense power he’d always held back.

"Did you think your games would end with a gentle caress?" he snarled against your mouth, his breath a frosty whisper. "You begged for a monster, little one. Now you have one."

He used his free hand to fist in your hair, tilting your head back to give him deeper, more brutal access. This wasn't about pleasure; it was about possession. It was about marking you, branding you as his after so long denying the claim. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip, not enough to draw venom, but enough to make your entire body jolt with a sharp, electric thrill.

You being systematically dismantled. Each dominating kiss, each restrictive hold, chipped away at your defiance, melting it into a pool of raw, submissive need. Your struggles ceased, your body going pliant against his. A whimper, genuine and utterly surrendered, vibrated in your throat.

He released your hair, his hand sliding down to grip your hip, his fingers digging into the flesh there with bruising force. He ground the hard ridge of his arousal against you, a blunt, unmistakable promise of what was to come.

"All that impertinence," he murmured, his lips trailing a searing path down your jaw to your throat. "All that clever talk." He nipped at the sensitive skin where your shoulder met your neck, and you arched against him, a silent plea. "Silenced. Finally."

He released your wrists, but you didn't move them. They stayed pinned against the wall by the sheer force of his will. His hands roamed your body now, not with tenderness, but with a frantic, greedy urgency. He tore at the delicate silk of your shift, the fabric rending with a sound that was obscenely loud in the quiet room. The cold air hit your bare skin, followed immediately by the colder touch of his palms, mapping your curves, claiming every inch.

His mouth found yours again, this kiss slower, deeper, more devastatingly intimate. It was no longer just about anger. It was about a hunger so profound it felt like agony. It was the final, irrevocable cave-in, and you were both buried in the avalanche.

When he finally broke the kiss, you were panting, your mind blank of everything but him. His eyes, burning like liquid gold, scanned your face, your lips, your dazed expression, the complete and total submission in your posture.

The ghost of a smirk touched his lips. The brat was tamed.

I knew the Volturi were hunting something before I knew what it was. Rumors traveled strangly among vampires. Not through phones or letters or anything human like that. Information passed through whispered conversations in abandoned cathedrals, half-finished sentences in crowded cities, the scent trails left behind by nomads crossing territories. And for the first time in over a century, the rumors weren’t about me. 

At first, all I heard was impossible. An immortal child. The Cullens had created an immortal child. Then came the corrections, not immortal, hybrid. Half-human, half-vampire. A child growing instead of frozen. A child with a heartbeat. A child the Volturi intended to destroy before the truth could spread. 

I should’ve ignored it, that was the smart thing to do. I’d survived this long by staying out of vampire politics. I avoiced covens, avoided attention, and avoided anywhere Aro might hear whispers of silver eyes and strange venom. But then I heard something else. The Cullens were gathering witnesses, not fighters. Witnesses. And for some reason that mattered to me, because people who gathered witnesses before war usually still believed truth meant something. So I ran to Forks. 

By the time I reached the Olympic forests, snow covered everything in thick silver layers. The cold didn’t bother me; nothing really did anymore. But the closer I got to Cullen territory, the more uneasy I became. I could smell them from miles away. Not just the Cullens, but dozens of vampires. Ancient ones, powerful ones, different diets, different covens. The air practically vibrated with tension and venom. I almost turned around twice. Not because I was afraid of fighting. I was afraid of what would happen when vampires smelled me, because they always reacted the same way. Confusion first, then fear, then disgust, sometimes curiosity, occasionally violence. Never comfort. Never safety. 

The Cullen house appeared through the trees just after dusk, glowing gold against endless snow. Voices drifted faintly through the forest while vampire scents layered so thickly through the air it almost burned. Too many. Far too many. I stopped at the edge of the clearing silently. Instantly, every vampire froze. God… Vampires were dramatic. 

Dozens of crimson and gold eyes snapped toward me at once. The reaction came immediately. The Amazons crouched low. Several nomads hissed. One massive vampire with dark curls, Emmett Cullen, I remembered, stepped stubly in front of the blonde woman beside him. Protective instinct. Interesting. Then the wind shifted, and they caught my scent properly. The entire clearing erupted into chaos. 

“What is that?” 

“That smell…” 

“She reeks of venom.” 

“No…” 

The blond woman, Rosalie, went rigid instantly. Bella Cullen moved instinctively in front of the small child standing beside her. The child…. Renesmee. Her scent hit me fully then. Human warmth wrapped in vampire sweetness. Heartbeat beneath immortality. Impossible. Beautiful. And terrifyingly fragile. I understood immediately why the Volturi feared her. A bronze-haired vampire stepped forward, eyes narrowed carefully. Edward Cullen. Mind reader, wonderful. His expression shifted strangely. Confused and frustrated. 

“I can’t hear her properly.” He murmured quietly. That earned me several more wary looks. I sighed softly. 

“Fantastic. We’re already off to a weird start.” 

A few vampires blinked; apparently, they expected something more threatening. Carlisle Cullen stepped forward, and immediately, everything changed. I’d heard stories about Carlisle for decades. The compassionate doctor, the vegetarian coven leader, the vampire who collected broken people instead of power. I never believed half of it, then he looked at me. Not my eyes, not my scent, me. 

“Welcome.” He said gently. 

I actually forgot how to speak for a second, because nobody had greeted me like that in over a century. 

“I’m Carlisle Cullen.” 

“I know.” My voice came out rougher than intended. Too much running. Too many years alone. Carlisle studied me carefully, not frightened, but curious, compassionate. God, that was worse somehow. 

Rosalie crossed her arms tightly. “You still haven’t explained why you smell like that.” 

Straight to the point, I appreciated that. I shoved my hands into my coat pockets. 

“Because I drink vampire blood.” 

Silence. 

Then absolute chaos. 

“That’s impossible.” 

“No vampire can survive on vampire blood.” 

“A cannibal?” 

The giant one, Emmett, actually looked fascinated. 

“Metal as hell though.” 

“Emmett.” Rosalie snapped. He shrugged unapologetically. Carlisle remained calm somehow. 

“You came here willingly?” He asked softly. 

I nodded once. 

“I heard you were gathering witnesses.” 

Bella’s red eyes narrowed slightly. 

“You came to help us?” 

“I came because the Volturi kill things they don’t understand.” 

Edward’s expression sharpened instantly because I hadn’t said people. Things. And I knew exactly what that felt like. Carlisle glanced briefly toward Renesmee before looking back at me. 

“You’re welcome here.” 

Several vampires looked horrified by that decision. 

The questions started almost immediately. By midnight, I sat near the Cullen house, surrounded by curious immortals while snow drifted lazily through the trees. Some kept their distance, others practically leaned into my space. Apparently, being a vampire cannibal made me tonight’s entertainment. Wonderful. Garrett stared openly, Kate looked delighted, Benjamin seemed scientifically fascinated, the Romanians looked like they were deciding whether to recruit or kill me, and honestly? Could’ve gone either way. Vladimir spoke first. 

“You consume our kind.” 

I looked over at him. “Yes.” 

“And only our kind?” 

“No.” 

“Well, how?” There it was, the real question. 

I leaned back against the porch railing slightly. “My venom is different.” 

Kate tilted her head curiously. “Different how?” 

I hesitated. I hated explaining this part. Not because it scared me anymore, but because it changed how people looked at me. Always. Still, they deserved honesty. 

“When I was human, there was witch blood in my family.” I said quietly. 

Bella blinked immediately. “Witches are real?” 

I laughed softly. “Oh sweetheart, your married to a vampire. Raise your standards for disbelief.” 

Emmett barked out a laugh. Even Rosalie smirked faintly. Carlisle leaned forward slightly. 

“Your transformation altered because of it?” 

“I think the venom reacted to it somehow.” I stared absently into the snowy trees. 

“Normal venom hardens the body, makes vampires nearly indestructible.” My silver eyes lifted toward them again. 

“Mike dissolves us.” 

Uneasy silence fell over the group. 

Benjamin frowned slightly. “Dissolves?” 

“If I bite another vampire, my venom liquifies the crystalline structure inside them.” My voice stayed clam from long practice. 

“Turns it into something closer to blood.” 

Bella visibly shivered. 

Rosalie’s expression tightened. 

Garrett looked horrified and fascinated simultaneously. 

“And then you drink it.” Edward said quietly. 

“Yes.” 

The silence after that stretched heavily, because they understood now. Not just what I was, but what I represented. A predator to predators. Carlisle studied me carefully. 

“And humans?” There was the more important concern. I glanced toward Renesmee instinctively. 

“You’re worried I could turn someone.” 

Carlisle didn’t deny it. “Yes.” 

“If I turn a human, they become what I am.” I said quietly. 

Shock rippled outward immediately. 

“What?” Bella whispered. 

“Your venom rewrites the transformation?” Eleazar asked sharply. 

I nodded once. 

“But only humans, existing vampires can’t convert.” I shrugged slightly. “I tried once.” 

Edward’s eyes narrowed instantly. “Tried?” 

I looked away immediately. Bad subject… 

“Not willingly.” 

That shut everyone up fast. Thank God. 

The strange part about staying with the Cullens wasn’t the fear. It was the kindness. Esme made space for me in the house without hesitation. Emmett asked increasingly concerning questions. 

“So if you bite me,” He asked one afternoon while lounging upside down on the Cullen living room couch. “would I melt from the inside out or outside in?” 

Rosalie smacked him immediately. 

“What?” 

“No.” I answered dryly. “You’d sparkle into soup.” 

Emmett burst out laughing. Rosalie groaned. 

“Please stop encouraging him.” 

Too late, way too late. 

Bella found me outside most nights. I think she understood loneliness better than the others. Or maybe she jsut understood being transformed into something strange. One evening, we stood together outside while snow fell softly through the dark forest around us. 

“You leave the house whenever everyone hunts.” Bella observed quietly. 

I shrugged. 

“Old instinct.” 

“You’re afraid.” 

I glanced toward her. 

“Not for me.” 

Understanding crossed her face immediately. 

“You think you’ll lose control around us.” 

“Yes.” The honesty surprised her slightly. I sighed softly. 

“You all smell like prey sometimes.” My silver eyes drifted toward the glowing house. 

“Especially newborns.” 

Bella looked down briefly. 

“Does it ever stop?” The question caught me off guard. 

“What?” 

“The hunger?” 

I thought about that honestly. About silver blood, about thirst, about the instinctive craving I felt whenever vampire venom scented the air. 

“No.” I admitted quietly. “You just learned how to live with wanting something.” 

Bella looked at me carefully then. “You’re lonely.” 

I laughed softly. “That obvious?” 

“A little.” 

She hesitated before speaking again. 

“You know… you don’t have to stay outside all the time.” 

God, that almost hurt. Because she meant it, and I genuinely didn’t know what to do with kindness anymore. 

More covens arrived over the next few days, and each reacted to me differently. The Irish coven looked unsettled but polite. The Amazons accepted me almost immediately after I insulted the Volturi creatively enough. 

“You compare Caius to spoiled mayonnaise.” Senna said thoughtfully. 

“He deserves worse.” 

Zafrina laughed so hard she nearly fell over. Kate became obsessed with my eyes. 

“They’re beautiful.” She informed me bluntly one afternoon. I blinked at her. Nobody had ever called my eyes beautiful before. They were usually called disturbing or unnatural. 

“They’re silver because of your diet?” She asked. 

I nodded once. 

“Vampire blood looks different than human blood.” My fingers traced absently along a forest branch nearby. 

“It’s brighter. Metallic almost.”

Bella frowned slightly. “Silver?” 

I nodded. “It shines.” 

The entire group looked disturbed. 

“It sounds pretty.” Renesmee said suddenly. 

Everyone froze. I looked down, the little hybrid stood near Bella, holding Jacob’s hand while staring directly at my eyes. No fear, no disgust, just curiosity. Children really were terrifyingly honest. 

“You think so?” I asked quietly. 

She nodded immediately. “They look like snow.” 

Something painfully soft twisted in my chest because children weren’t supposed to look at monsters like that. 

The night before the Volturi arrived, massive bonfires burned through the snowy clearing while covens gathered together, sharing stories. Ancient stories. War stories. Love stories. Immortals collected memories the way humans collected scars. I stayed near the edge of the firelight, listening while Vladimir dramatically recounted the Volturi's overthrow of the Romanian coven. 

“Cowards.” Stefan muttered darkly. 

“Terrible fashion sense too.” I added. 

Several vampires laughed. Even Carlisle smiled slightly. The tension eased briefly after that. Then Tanya looked toward me thoughtfully. 

“We’ve all shared our histories tonight.” 

Ah. The tragic backstory request. I sighed heavily. 

“You people are unbelievable nosy.” 

Kate grinned immediately. “Correct.” 

The fire crackled softly beneath falling snow while dozens of vampires looked toward me expectantly. I should’ve refused. Instead, I stared into the flames. 

“I was twenty-two when I died.” Silence settled almost instantly. 

“My family lived near Salem originally.” I continued quietly. “Which honestly should’ve been warning enough.” 

A few covens exchanged confused looks. 

“My grandmother practiced witchcraft.” I shrugged slightly. “Real witchcraft. Protection spells mostly, healing.” 

Carlisle leaned forward slightly, fascinated. 

“She believed your bloodline carried something unusual?” 

“Yes.” 

The fire reflected silver in my eyes while old memories crawled up from places I usually buried them. 

“Then a vampire found me.” 

Rosalie’s expression darkened immediately. She knew already. Women like us always recognized certain stories. 

“He killed my family first.” 

The clearing went completely still. 

“He wanted me afraid before he turned me.” 

Bella’s face tightened painfully. I stared into the flames instead of at them. 

“I remembered the venom burning.” My voice sounded detached somehow. 

“I remember screaming.” A pause. 

“Then I remember walking up.” 

Everyone listened silently. 

“My creator expected a newborn.” A faint smile crossed my face. 

“He got me instead.” 

Unease spread through the clearing instantly because they could hear it already, the violence waiting in the story. 

“He tried to restrain me after I woke.” My hands clenched slightly. “I bit him.” 

God… I still remember his face. The confusion, then terror. 

“At first I thought something had gone wrong.” My throat tightened slightly. 

“His skin started melting.” 

Bella visibly flinched. Even some ancient covens looked unsettled now. 

“He screamed.” I still hear that sound sometimes. Silver blood across my hands. Moonlight reflecting through it. Bright. Metallic. Beautiful. Horrifying. 

“Nobody had ever heard a vampire scream like that before.” I whispered. “Silver blood poured out of him while his body dissolved.” 

The fire cracked softly. 

“I drank because I was thirsty.” I admitted quietly. “And because I didn’t understnad what I was doing.” 

No one interrupted. 

“When it was over…” I said softly. “...there was almost nothing left.” 

Snow drifted slightly around the clearing. 

“Were you alone afterward?” Esme asked gently. 

That question almost broke me because there was no fear in her voice, only sadness. 

“Yes.” 

Esme looked devastated by that answer. Carlisle did too because he understood exactly what that meant. A newborn completely alone. No guidance. No family. No understanding of what she’d become. Just hunger, horror, and isolation. 

“How long before the Volturi found out?” Edward asked quietly. 

I laughed bitterly. 

“They smelled what was left of him.” 

That answered enough. 

Aro had become obsessed almost immediately afterward. A predator hunting another predator. Except I’d been young then. Terrified. Alone. 

“Did they chase you long?” Bella asked softly. 

I looked up at the snowy forest surrounding us. 

“For decades.” My voice softened. “Aro wanted to know if I could be recreated.” 

Several vampires visibly recoiled. Good. They should be. 

“I spent over a century running after that.” 

Carlisle looked at me carefully. 

“That’s why you’re alone.” 

Not judgment, but understanding. I met his gaze across the fire. 

“I’m dangerous.” 

“No, you’re isolated.” Carlisle said gently. 

That almost hurt more than the memories because nobody had ever separated those two things before. And maybe I didn’t know how to anymore either. 

Morning arrived white and sharp with snow. The field stretched endlessly beneath a pale sky while every witness gathered silently near the tree line. The Volturi were coming. I could tell them already, ancient venom, old blood. Power. Fear. Interesting. Very interesting. The Cullens stood together at the center of the clearing. Bella beside Edward, Renesmee protected carefully between them with Jacob in his wolf form nearby. Every coven tense, waiting. I stayed slightly apart from everyone automatically, not excluded, just careful. 

Suddenly, the Volturi emerged from the snow like shadows. Black cloaks against endless white. Aro at the center, Caius beside him, already looking murderous, Marcus looking bored, Jane and Alec silent nearby. Hundreds of guards follow behind them. The field went completely still, then Aro saw me… and everything stopped. He froze so abruptly several guards nearly collided into him. Shocked flashed openly across his ancient face. Caius frowned immediately. Marcus’ eyes also widened. Then the wind shifted. The Volturi caught my scent. Several guards recoiled outright. Jane’s crimson eyes widened. Alec went perfectly still. And Caius, Caius looked terrified. That was satisfying. 

“Impossible.” Aro whispered. 

I crossed my arms loosely. 

“Hello, Aro.” 

Edward tensed beside Bella immediately because Aro looked fascinated. Obsessed. The same way collectors looked at priceless things. 

“Oh, you survived.” Aro breathed softly. 

I smiled coldly. “Disappointed for you, I know.” 

Caius recognized me fully then. Hatred twisted across his face immediately. 

“No.” He snarled. “Absolutely not.” 

Bella looked confused beside Edward. Aro slowly stepped closer. 

“You disappeared beautifully.” He murmured. 

“I learned quickly.” 

The entire field had gone silent now. Everyone watching. Everyone confused. Aro stared at me like I was buried treasure finally uncovered after centuries. I hated that look. 

“My dear Carlisle,” Aro said softly without taking his eyes off me. “do you understand what she is?” 

Carlisle answered immediately. “She’s a person.” 

Something strange flickered across Aro’s face. Amusement maybe. 

“Oh, and so very much more.” He said softly. He extended one pale hand toward me slowly. 

“May I?” 

Edward moved instantly. Protective. Suspicious. I raised one hand slightly without looking back. 

“It’s alright.” 

Carefully, I stepped forward and touched Aro’s hand. The reaction was immediate. Aro gasped sharply. His crimson eyes widened as my memories flooded through him. My transformation. Silver blood. Screaming. Volturi guards hunting me across continents. Humans experimented on trying to recreate me. Loneliness. Fear. Survival. When contact finally broke, Aro looked shaken. Actually shaken. 

“My God…” He whispered. 

Caius looked furious now. “What did you see?” 

Aro stared at me like I was the answer to a question he’d chased for centuries. 

“Evolution.” 

The word settled across the snowy field like thunder. Every witness stiffened. Carlisle’s expression darkened slightly. Aro smiled slowly. 

“She is the rarest creature our world has ever produced.” 

I looked deeply unimpressed. “Flattery from you usually precedes violence.” 

Aro laughed softly. 

“Still sharp.” 

Caius stepped forward abruptly. 

“She should be destroyed.” 

Instantly, every vampire and wolf tensed. The Cullens moved protectively. Witnesses shifted. Even Volturi guards looked uneasy. I stayed perfectly still. Aro, however, looked offended. 

“No.” 

Caius stared at him. “No?” 

“My dear Caius, she is extraordinary.” Aro murmured. 

Extraordinary. Right. That was one word for it. Aro looked at me again with dangerous fascination. 

“You could join us.” 

And there it was, the obsession. The same obsession that had chased me across continents for over a century. I brust out laughing. Sharp and incredulous across the frozen field. 

“Oh, absolutely not.” I said breathlessly. 

Aro still smiled. 

“You refuse quickly.” 

“You hunted me for a hundred years.” 

“Because you fascinated me.” 

“You dissected humans trying to recreate me.” 

The field went dead silent again. Bella looked horrified. Aro tilted his head slightly. 

“Yes, unsuccessfully.” He admitted calmly. 

I stared at him coldly. “You smell afraid.” 

That hit immediately. The Volturi guards visibly reacted because, beneath all the ceremony and power and ancient control, they feared me. A predator built specifically for predators. A vampire who drank immortals themselves. Even Caius took hald a step back unconsciously, and Aro noticed. His smile widened slowly. Not fearful, delighted. Because for the first time in centuries, the Volturi had finally encountered something stronger than them.

Not only did you notice this, but the whole school did, too.

Jessica, damn her soul, was at the head of the rumor mill, spinning far-fetched stories about you and Jasper being secret lovers. If punching someone, much less a girl, wouldn’t get you expelled or possibly arrested, Jessica would have been target number one.

You tried to keep your anger in check, especially when the whole school (students and staff alike) kept staring at you and Jasper like you were part of some soap opera. But one rumor, in particular, pushed you over the edge.

“I’m not a sugar baby!” you hissed at Jessica when she tried to strike up a conversation about the nonexistent gifts Jasper was supposedly giving you. “What bullshit gave you that idea?”

“He gave you a pencil—”

“Oh, fuck off and shove that pencil—” You couldn’t finish that sentence as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch and the beginning of fourth period. Jessica just waved goodbye and scurried off, knowing your temper wouldn’t be stopped by a bell. Huffing, you made your way to history class, where, lo and behold, Jasper was already seated, a grin on his face.

As the class dragged on, you couldn’t keep ignoring Jasper or the hushed whispers of the other students. His grin never faltered, and neither did the feeling of his gaze burning into you.

Screw it.

Without waiting for the teacher to finish his lecture on some historical battle you couldn’t care less about, you stood up abruptly.

“Out.” you muttered, grabbing Jasper by the arm with a grip that brooked no argument. Jasper, taken aback, allowed you to drag him to his feet. A low murmur rippled through the class, but you didn’t care. You were done playing around.

You hauled his ass out the classroom, ignoring the teacher’s confused calls after you, and pulled him down the hallway to the nearest janitor's closet. You shoved the door open, pushed him inside, and slammed it shut behind you. The tiny space was dimly lit and filled with the scent of cleaning supplies, but you didn’t let the cramped quarters intimidate you. Instead, you crowded Jasper back against a shelf, glaring up at him.

“Alright, Hale,” you snapped, eyes blazing. “I’m sick of the staring, the lurking, and the creepy smiles. What's your deal? Are you trying to get under my skin or are you just that bored?”

For a moment, Jasper didn’t respond. Then, slowly, that infuriatingly calm smile spread across his lips.

“You know,” he drawled, his voice like honey dripping off a knife, “for someone who claims not to care, you seem awfully worked up about it.”

“Cut the crap,” you growled, slamming your palm against the shelf beside his head. “You’ve been following me around like some kind of deranged puppy and I want to know why. And don’t you dare feed me some bullshit line about coincidence.”

Jasper’s smile faded. “Maybe some of the rumors are true,” he admitted. “Maybe I do want to get to know you better.”

The words surprised you. You’d expected deflection, but this was something else. You narrowed your eyes. “Get to know me? And what exactly does that mean?”

“It means,” Jasper continued, his gaze meeting yours head-on, “that you’re different from the others. You don’t fawn over us like we’re gods, and you’re not afraid to speak your mind. It’s refreshing.”

You snorted. “So, what? You think acting like a creep is the way to get my attention? Newsflash, Hale: it’s not working.”

His lips twitched, almost like he was holding back a laugh. “Oh, I don’t know. It got you to drag me in here, didn’t it?”

That did it. You reached out, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him closer, your faces mere inches apart. “Listen to me. If you want to know me, try acting like a normal person instead of some stalker freak. Got it?”

Jasper didn't reply immediately, just stared at you before his gaze briefly flicked to your lips. “Got it.” he murmured, a reverent expression crossing his face that confused the hell out of you. You let go of him, expecting him to step back, but he didn’t. He stayed right where he was, not seeming at all bothered by the confined space or your proximity.

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not giving up. I’m still going to try to get to know you, whether you like it or not.”

Feeling a mix of frustration and something you didn’t want to name, you turned around and opened the door. “Fine, but try anything like this again, and I won’t be so nice.”

Jasper chuckled, that damn smile creeping back onto his face. “Deal, but somehow, I think you like a little chaos.”