Chapter Text
“So very fascinating,” Aro breathed, releasing Bella’s hand from his gentle grasp. “I see nothing!”
Behind him, Caius’ scowl softened. He leaned forward, his hands leaving the throne’s armrest. Marcus, in his own way, also seemed curious, and he swayed his milky gaze towards Alice, Edward and her once more. His eyes were unsettling. They appeared to look through her rather than at her. She felt exposed, her skin flayed, her nerves and viscera for all to see. Bella shivered.
“Un mistero intrigante, piccola”, he sighed. “So similar to… I wonder…” Aro trailed off before dismissing his thoughts with a wave of his hand.
Caius cleared his throat, the sound more delicate than it had any right to be, and Aro glided to his brother’s side, immediately holding out his hand. Seconds passed without a word being exchanged, her breathing loud in the unnatural silence of the throne room. She glanced at Edward, hoping he could bring her some insight as to what was currently happening.
He bent down and brought his lips to her ear. The cold of his skin made her shudder, and she was uncomfortably reminded that her clothes were still soaked from the fountain water. God, what if she stank of chlorine? “They’re thinking in another language,” he whispered. “I don’t know what’s happening.”
Despite his low tone, the surrounding guards swivelled their heads in their direction, some of them curling their lips and hissing, clearly taking offence at Edward's attempt to follow the kings’ silent exchange.
Finally, Aro let his hand fall and crossed his arms behind his back. “A tempting suggestion, fratello.”
From Caius’ answering smirk, she knew that whatever he had suggested, none of them would enjoy it. Edward lunged in front of her, pushing her to his back. The impact made her hiss in pain, the sound hidden by his low and threatening growl.
The guard straightened, and Jane stepped forward, an eerie smile on her cherub features. Before she could use whatever powers she possessed that Edward feared so much, the door opened with a bang and the beautiful tour guide they'd seen earlier entered, her heels clacking on the stone.
“Perdonatemi l’interruzione, Padrone, Messer Hadrian è giunto or ora. Vuole che lo accompagni nella sala del tribunale o nei suoi alloggi?” she announced, bowing low and apologetically as she held out her hand to Aro.
The small, curious smirk from Aro's regal face disappeared, replaced by an elated grin when he touched her hand. The expression brought a startling youth to the ruler, his joy elevating his beautiful features, and his previously calm countenance was replaced by manic giddiness as he clapped his hands once in delight, the sound echoing in the cavernous room.
Alice and Edward stiffened, wary of the incoming event that had Aro so clearly pleased. “A guest,” Edward murmured. Caius and Marcus, too, seemed to look forward to the arrival of this guest, and the guard erupted in low but animated chatter as Heidi waited for Aro’s answer.
“Anima mia radiosa,” Aro exclaimed, “Conducilo qui all'istante, Heidi.”
Heidi left, and Aro returned to the marble stage, smoothing his—already perfect—dark suit and running his hands through his hair. The King looked strangely aflutter. Who could this guest be to cause such a reaction? To discountenance this stoic ruler who, by all accounts, seemed to embody to perfection the stoicism usually attributed to vampires? And not only him, but the two other rulers, as well as their guard.
Her heart threatened to beat through her ribs, the adrenaline from earlier events still coursing in her veins. The three kings were already wildcards, dangerous men in their own rights, and she knew, even before entering the courtroom, that there was a definite possibility she wouldn’t leave Volterra alive. Would this person change the course of things? If so, would it be for better or worse? A look towards Alice and the answering shake of her head offered Bella little insight, but one: either she had no vision about this moment, or it wouldn’t end well for them. Great. One more thing to look out for. Bella glared at Edward’s back, still held by his arm. This was all his fault, and he was lucky she had yet to give him a piece of her mind. She almost wanted to do it now, get it all out before her potential death.
The doors opened once again, this time giving way to a small man, close to her height, with an overwhelming presence. Alice and Edward jerked back, their noses upturned and shared a distraught look. Bella struggled to leave Edward’s protective hold to observe the newcomer. His skin was bronze, a stark contrast to the paleness of the Volturi, and his short, jet black hair curled around his head in a chaotic halo. Even his clothes, a frayed pair of jeans and a relaxed knitted jumper, made him stand out from the perfectly dressed audience surveying his approach with mounting excitement. His gait was predatorial, easy and languid strides as his head turned left and right, observing the gathered vampires. There was no fear in his attitude, and his steps never slowed as he stopped before the dais and lowered his head. Far less than Heidi had done when coming in.
“Merry meet and apologies for the interruption, Padrone. Heidi told me to come immediately. How can I be of service?” his voice, grave but young, rang clear as he spoke, betraying an ease Bella knew she’d never have been capable of. His British accent sounded almost foreign to her ears, so used to the usual American drawl in Alice’s and Edward’s voices or the lilting tones of Italian used by the Volturi. But it wasn’t his accent that made her curiosity spike; it was the clear absence of the musicality present in all the vampires she had met. Was he an exception or something else?
Aro’s face, which Bella had thought particularly expressive—for a vampire—, belied her earlier assessment. He looked at the newcomer like one witnessed their god appearing in a temple after decades of devout prayer or the rising of dawn after an inky black night. It was gone in a flash when he caught her looking, bemused, and Edward staring, horrified, but the adoration he felt towards the raven-haired man was still obviously painted on his face.
Edward muttered, “I can’t read his thoughts.” Before she could answer, Aro welcomed the man.
“Hadrian, mio amato, evocato dalla mia mente come un dio che risponde ai suoi fedeli.” Aro glided down the steps with his arms wide open, a blissful smile on his lips. “L’assenza rende davvero il cuore più affezionato; tu già rendi il sole più splendente con la tua presenza,” he added, his hands closing around the man’s waist. With a graceful turn, he lifted him into the air, spinning them both in a fluid arc.
Caius rolled his eyes, evidently used to the other King’s antics, and a wistful smile graced Marcus’ lips. Felix and Demetri, the guards who had stopped their departure earlier, also seemed happy about the stranger’s presence. Even Jane lost her stoic composure, although it was more an echo of contentment than true happiness.
“Alright, alright, no need for such dramatics, Sua Maestà,” the man declared with a laugh as Aro gently lowered him down. This time, the newcomer faced them, and Bella swallowed a surprised gasp.
Her heart beat once, twice, before her brain allowed her to understand what she was seeing.
The left side of his face was marred by a white, lightning-shaped scar spanning from the top of his forehead to his cheek, only interrupted by his eye, which was green. Both of them were. Not the scarlet of the Volturi or the golden of the Cullen, but a vibrant, glowing green.
He wasn’t a vampire.
He also didn’t look a day older than nineteen, twenty, maybe if she was pushing it.
“Sorry for the get-up, my departure from England was a bit hasty, and I didn’t have time to put on something more appropriate,” he said with an impish grin and a vague gesture at his clothes.
As she’d observed earlier, the garments were indeed a far cry from the opulent and tasteful clothes worn by the Volturi, as even the guards wore understated but refined outfits under their cloaks, and, selfishly, it made her feel a little better about her wet trousers and blouse. The frayed jeans looked like they had been new and fashionable some twenty years ago, while the red knitted sweater was huge on him and sported a yellow ‘H’ on the front. It was clearly well-loved. Bella could easily imagine him wearing it with a hot beverage in hand in front of a fireplace, gentle falling snow visible from the window.
Aro chuckled, his hand placed on the man’s heart, and the subject of his attention blushed red. “No matter, tesoro, nulla importa ciò che indossi; sarai sempre la creatura più splendida in questa sala. Now that you are here, I would ask for your counsel on the matter at hand.”
Tesoro. Treasure? Bella thought back to her tentative learning of the language. She felt pretty sure of her translation. So, whoever that was, he was Aro’s ‘treasure’, interesting. Some other words had been fairly transparent, and between ‘splendid’, and ‘affection’ it painted a clear picture of the esteem Aro held the newcomer. Someone to be both wary of and respectful to, then.
As if only now realising that behind Aro stood three strangers, the man’s eyes widened, and his back snapped straighter. His gaze rested on Alice first, then Edward, and finally, Bella. When their eyes met, his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
He walked towards them slowly, as if not to spook them, with a welcoming smile. Completely ignoring Alice and Eward, he stopped before her and extended a hand.
“Hi, I’m Harry!”
Behind him, Caius rolled his eyes again, and Aro sighed.
Bella didn’t even think before taking it, despite Edward’s punishing grasp on her other arm, shaking twice with a firm grip, hoping against all odds that her hands weren’t sweaty against his warm and supple palm.
“B—” she cleared her throat, “Bella Swan.”
Caius hissed, “You will address him as ‘Master Potter’ or not at all, if you know what’s good for you.” The ‘or else’ was left unsaid but not unheard. The two Cullens beside her stiffened even more, if it was possible. Caius' apparent respect for a human hammered his importance even deeper than Aro’s terms of endearment.
Harry waved Caius’ interruption away and smiled at her. “Well, Miss Swan, seems the entire room is in a right tizzy. Would that be your doing?”
Bella fought the blush creeping up her cheeks. “I’m afraid so,” she answered in a whisper with a depreciative smile.
“It is most auspicious you’d return at this precise instant, carissimo. I was about to test a theory of ours,” Aro gestured to Jane and him. “Bella here is impervious to my gift, as she is to Edward’s telepathy.”
Harry’s eyes darted to Edward. He frowned and then, seeming to conclude something, turned to Caius. “And you thought to test her against Jane?” he tutted, shaking his head. “For shame, Caius, are they not guests?” The fact that Harry appeared to know the kings enough to know who the idea came from bore witness to his relationship with the Volturi.
Bella tensed, sure she was about to see Harry’s head roll for the casual disrespect directed at one of the kings. To her surprise, Caius only shrugged, his palms skyward, as if to say, ‘I am what I am’. And indeed it seemed that was reason enough for Harry as he let out a loud bark of laughter.
With horror, Bella realised that Harry’s chaotic attitude and confidence probably made him the most dangerous person she’d faced in a while. She shivered.
Harry’s head snapped to her. He raked his gaze over her, stopping on her wet clothes, Edward’s hand still tightly gripping her arm, and her red-rimmed eyes.
“You poor thing,” he gasped, “you’re shivering.” He turned, searching for something—no, someone, she realised as Jane seemed to materialise next to him. He didn’t even flinch at her speed. “Jane, love, could you be a dear and get a cloak first and some change of clothes for Bella? It’s already freezing here; no need to tempt Fate and fall ill because of wet clothes.”
“Sì, Maestro,” she bowed her head and ran off in a blur.
Bella was getting whiplash from the onslaught of information and various attitudes towards her since she’d entered the Palazzo. From Aro’s outwardly calm mania to Marcus’ distant interest and Caius’ hostility, her head was spinning, and she was very quickly getting overwhelmed. Her trembling legs also reminded her she hadn’t eaten since leaving Forks. Once all of this was over, if she wasn’t dead, she was going to have one hell of a panic attack. Add to that the fact that she hadn’t yet processed being faced with Edward and Alice once more after they’d abandoned her, and the unknown element Harry was.
Shit.
Maybe it would be better to be executed rather than face that shitshow.
No.
That was the coward's way out.
But it was—oh, so very tempting.
Jane came back and handed Harry the folded cloak with another shallow bow, retreating to the side afterwards with the other guards and linking her hand with her twin’s.
“There we are,” he hummed. She expected him to hand her the cloak, but instead, he waited, eyeing Edward with a pointed look. “You’ll have to unhand the lady, Edward, for her to put the cloak on. You don’t want her to catch a cold, do you?” his voice, previously warm and joyful, turned cold. The entire courtroom seemed to move towards him in an almost unconscious move of protection to stand between him and the one he’d directed his hostility at.
Edward opened his mouth to protest; probably, his hand had tightened even more, and she had to repress a wince of pain, sensing her reaction would surely be the lit match to the already tense atmosphere.
Before he could say anything, Aro moved forward, standing behind Harry with a hand on his shoulder. With a jolt, Bella realised she hadn’t seen Aro touch Harry’s skin since he’d entered, despite having looked at everyone’s memories, even Heidi’s when she interrupted whatever Jane was about to do. She wondered about the implications behind it. Aro didn’t seem like someone concerned about anybody’s privacy, so what was it about Harry that warranted such preferential treatment? Aro was clearly devoted to the man, and wasn’t that a peculiar thought when it concerned the leader of the most influential coven in the vampire world, but was he reserved with his contact because they were… involved? Or something else?
Some part of her hoped it had something to do with the cryptic comment Aro first made when he’d taken her hand. He’d said ‘so familiar to…’ To whom? And added it was good timing on Harry’s part to arrive at this precise moment. Plus, Edward told her he couldn’t hear his thoughts. Some part of her hoped Harry was like her, that he too was impervious to Aro’s gift as well as Edward’s. If only to make her less special, less noticeable by the frightening powers holding her life between their cold grasp. And maybe, a small part, hoped that, if it was the case, she could find some bit of understanding in him. Find some answers to the questions bubbling in her head that no one answered or knew how to answer.
“I would obey what your better has asked of you, giovane Edward,” Aro snarled in a low voice. “Se disobbedisci o azzardi una mossa minacciosa contro il mio amato, ti strapperò personalmente la testa dalle spalle e ti rimanderò dalla tua famiglia in mille pezzi. Terrò il tuo capo come trofeo, e poi vedrò se i tuoi congiunti sapranno supplicare abbastanza da ottenerti una morte rapida.”
Bella gulped. Granted, despite her Italian name, she knew about ten sentences strung together, but she knew enough to understand ‘morte’, ‘rapida’ and ‘famiglia’. She shook off Edward’s hand as best she could, shamefully relieved to escape his icy shackle. He held on for a few seconds, glaring at the man in front of him. Alice stepped forward and took his hand. That finally seemed to do the trick, and he, too, took a step back. She clenched her fists, furious that once more he tried to control her, only backing off when someone else compelled him to.
Harry’s smile came back with his verdant gaze on her. He handed her the cloak, which she shrugged on with pleasure. The material was thick and soft, a white velvet with a deep burgundy lining, subtle and ornate gold embroidery running up the sides and along the heavy hood. Very Baroque. It was a beautiful piece, and she was already sad at the idea she’d have to part with it. Her fingers ran over the needlework, wondering how much time it had taken to create such a piece.
“Thank you, Master Potter,” she bowed. Maybe not very gracefully, but her exhale showed the relief she felt at finally being cut off from the cold of the Palazzo.
Above Harry’s shoulder, Aro nodded at her with a look of approval. She stood a little straighter, oddly proud that she’d done something well.
“None of that, love,” Harry said. He took her hands in his and hissed. “Shit, you’re half frozen already!”
He turned to Aro. “Aro, can this wait? She needs to get her heat back up and probably eat something. Surely a few minutes won’t make a difference?” Somehow, he made his tone authoritative and pleading at the same time. It reminded Bella of her father when he negotiated with her to eat her greens when she was a child. God, Charlie. Right now, she’d love nothing more than to hide in his arms for a hug. She pressed her eyes shut to blink the tears away. She wasn’t going to cry in a court full of scornful vampires.
“Of course, luce dei miei occhi. Take all the time you need. We will reconvene in an hour,” he replied immediately.
Bella thought Harry could ask the world at his feet, and Aro would give it to him. The worship Aro showed Harry was staggering. Humbling in its intensity. She darted her eyes to Edward, trying to remember if there was ever a time he’d treated her like that. Did Carlisle treat Esme like that when they were alone? Did Emmett? Did Jasper? She tried to catch Alice’s eye, but to no avail. Was this the norm or the exception?
Caius scoffed. “This could be resolved without the girl present.”
“No —”
“ — No!”
Aro and Harry shared a sharp smile as they replied in unison.
“I believe it is better if Isabella is present for the resolution of this matter, fratello impetuoso.”
Harry nodded decisively. “Yeah! I mean, this whole thing is probably about her, isn’t it? She deserves to be there while we speak about her future.”
A sun bloomed in her chest. Its warmth touched the heart of something deep in her, something that had shrivelled up in cold and despair for what seemed like years. It was blissful agony to finally have her agency back, and horrific ecstasy to realise she’d lost it somewhere along the way.
It was a slap to the face, the cold trickle of water on her skin when she splashed the sleep away, the bite of thorns when she weaved the holly wreath for her grandma when she was still alive.
She’d been due for a wake-up call.
Bella was finally wide fucking awake.
On the throne, Caius huffed. He looked like he was about to object, so Bella took a chance. “I’d like to be there, please. Um, P-Padrone?” she stuttered, unsure of how to address the kings, choosing the term she’d heard both Heidi and Harry use. She very, very, very dearly hoped she hadn’t just given an intimate nickname to Caius because that would without a doubt sign her death warrant with or without Harry’s caring gestures.
To her surprise, he looked reluctantly pleased at her form of address and turned his ire to Edward instead. “Your pet has more manners than you, Cullen. Maybe I should leash you for a few centuries, see how you fare then.” He stood up and left the grandiose room with a dramatic flourish of his cloak.
Judging by the look some members of the guard shared, the idea seemed worthwhile to most of them. Aro too looked contemplative.
“Course’ you’ll be there,” Harry said as he took her hand and linked it to the crease of his arm. “But first, we’ll get you to a warm shower, clean and dry clothes, some food and after, we’ll walk in the gardens. We’re having such great weather, it would be stupid not to take advantage of it.” He was still smiling at her. Hadn’t stopped in fact. It seemed ludicrous that such a sunny and warm person could exist alongside the stone-faced vampires of the Volturi, who didn’t exactly project conviviality or gentleness.
Although, as she took his arm with both her hands and answered his smile with a small one of her own, she vowed not to forget the all-encompassing aura of power he’d exuded when coming inside the courtroom, nor the mercurial change in attitude when he’d spoken to Edward and the way Aro had immediately threatened him to back down, his hand on Harry’s shoulder.
Bella followed him out and had only taken a few steps when she heard a growl behind her. She didn’t even have time to turn before Aro called, “Alec,” and the sound stopped. When she looked back, both Edward and Alice were on their knees, their eyes adrift, unfocused and surrounded by a creeping mist.
“What—?” she gasped, her hand squeezing Harry’s arm, her feet already moving to Alice and Edward, ready to plead for their life.
“Shhh. Don’t worry,” he soothed in a gentle tone, patting her hand. “Alec’s gift targets the senses. They see nothing, feel nothing, hear nothing. They won’t be harmed.” He threw a pointed look at Aro, who offered the most insincere innocent look she’d seen in a while. If he were the type, he’d be drawing a halo above his head.
Her companion snickered but apparently believed Aro would keep his word. In some way, it made her truly believe he would. Harry trusted Aro to keep Alice and Edward safe. Aro, in turn, rather looked like he’d prefer to light himself on fire than disappoint Harry.
Honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if she came back and the two Cullens were in better shape than when they’d left. Her mind provided her with the image of the stoic Aro and Jane giving Edward and Alice a makeover while they were out, like giggling teenagers at a slumber party and couldn’t help the snorting laugh that escaped her.
She slapped her hand to her mouth, mortified.
“Ah! She laughs. Wonderful!” Aro’s voice was delighted. “Where did your mind take you, bambina?”
“I–um I-I—,” she bit her lips, the words catching in her throat. He’d know if she lied. He would hear her heartbeat, not that she thought it would keep beating for long with how fast it was thumping against her chest. It was kind, really, to try to hasten her trespassing to avoid the mortification, but she’d been even more grateful if it could stop faster. Could she just say, ‘I don’t want to tell you’? Politely? How did one say that to a king?
“Come on, enough of this. You’ll have plenty of occasions to fluster her when she’s feeling more like herself,” Harry berated Aro. He tugged very gently so they could start moving; her feet followed without her input.
When they were in the corridor, he breathed slowly, in and out, in and out. The electric atmosphere surrounding him diminished slightly, making him appear smaller, more boyish.
“So,” he finally asked, “how was the trip here?”
“Are we going to make small talk?” She was surprised he wasn’t immediately asked why a living human was walking around the Palazzo in a majestic cloak, with two unknown vampires kneeling in wait for her return. Maybe he had a power allowing him to know. Or perhaps he didn’t care, which would be refreshing, if somewhat improbable.
He shrugged. “It’s never productive to talk about important things while uncomfortable. That’s just good logic. We’ll talk about the serious stuff when we get to the gardens. It’s perfect for that kind of conversation, you’ll see. So, how was the trip? Did you come by plane or train?”
The reasoning made sense. “Okay, yeah. Um, we took the plane. I’m from Washington, difficult to get a train from there.”
“America! So great, although not for everyone at this moment,” he sighed. “If you ever have the occasion, take the train to the smaller towns in Italy, you’ll feel like you’ve gone back in time. It’s incredible.”
She could imagine it. Her, sitting in a small but cosy carriage, rocked by the train and the picturesque landscapes. A book or two or three in her bag, maybe she could even take up knitting; it seemed a fitting activity to try aboard an ancient Italian train.
“I’d love that. I was hardly concentrating on the way here, but what little I saw when we drove here from the airport was beautiful. I’ve always wanted to visit Italy.” Now that they got going, it felt surprisingly easy to talk to him.
“It’s a beautiful country. I haven’t had the time to explore everything I’d want to, unfortunately. There are some awesome museums right here in Volterra, if you’re interested in that. My favourite is ‘Museo della Tortura’. A macabre but fascinating subject,” Harry chuckled with a twisted grin.
Bella thought about it. “A torture museum… Didn’t know Caius offered tours of his rooms, that’s very generous of him,” she quipped before she could stop the onslaught of words. What was she doing? Was she trying to get herself killed before pleading her case? If asked, she’d plead starvation and exhaustion. Maybe even insanity. Surely in that case her words wouldn’t be held against her, right? Right?
Thankfully, Harry exploded in a loud, barking laugh, and his snickers kept on going and going until they reached an ornate wooden door. With enough luck, if Caius ever heard, he would also hear she made Harry laugh, and it would endear her to him. Pipe dream, she knew too well, but a girl could hope.
The room took her breath away. It was richly appointed yet restrained. Dark wood panelling framed the walls, polished to a soft sheen that caught the glow of the sun in its zenith. Divided in half, one held a grand poster bed and the other a small round table next to a lavish sofa. Its dark wooden furniture and rich fabrics in tones of burgundy, black, and ivory gave the space a sense of quiet and tranquillity. It was the perfect guestroom. While it might make one want to stay and relax, it was impersonal enough to wish for a space to lay some roots, similar to the high-end hotel rooms she’d seen in movies and pictures. She wondered if the person responsible for the room’s decoration and furnishing had drawn their inspiration from them or if the hotels were a direct influence of the Volturi’s reach and history.
“I’ll wait on the couch while you shower and dress. Your change of clothes is probably already in there with all you could ever need in a bathroom,” he snorted. “Heidi is a miracle worker and a damn fast one at that.”
Bella thanked him and went to explore the bathroom. She turned back to ask if Harry wouldn’t be bored waiting for her, but he was already lying back on the couch, one arm draped over his face to shield his eyes from the sun.
The bathroom carried the same quiet grandeur as the rest of the suite—white marble floors veined with black, polished wood accents, and a freestanding tub that gleamed under the natural light and called her name in a sweet, sweet voice. The air smelled faintly of lavender and old stone, a comforting scent.
She went through the necessary motions as quickly as she could, unwilling to let the hot steam and lavish comfort distract her from the fact that Edward and Alice were still on their knees, blind and deaf to the happenings around them. She wondered if Edward’s gift still worked when under the influence of Alec’s. If they got out of Volterra alive, she’d have to ask him.
Heidi was, indeed, a miracle worker. She had left numerous bottles of soap, shampoo and creams that smelled incredibly expensive. Bella used only the bare minimum of what she would need. Next to the sink, a wooden box held various face products as well as some makeup.
With a sigh, she held the showerhead over the crown of her hair, letting the scalding hot water loosen her muscles and warm her still shivering limbs. Five minutes, she told herself. She’d allow herself five minutes to warm up and enjoy the heat before forcing her body to move.
And, indeed, after washing up, she leaned back against the tub and counted the precious seconds she had until she’d have to exit the bath.
She didn’t think, didn’t wonder, didn’t even spare a minute of thought for the man dozing off on the couch in the next room, Alice and Edward kneeling, her fears or hopes. For these five minutes, she allowed herself to just be.
When she exited the bathroom, she wore a white silk blouse tucked into high-waisted dark grey slacks and felt more alive than ever. On the table, a plate with pasta, a glass of water, and a glass of wine waited for her.
Harry had fallen asleep, judging by the soft snores escaping from under his arm. He’d shifted, during her shower, and was now balled up in a tighter position. She felt struck by the realisation that, like this, he looked like a child. Younger than her, even, with his features relaxed from his expressive gestures. His presence no longer larger than life itself, but, like him, curled up into something more fragile. It was tempting to run a hand through his wild locks, to comfort, to soothe, despite not knowing if he needed it.
With a shake of her head, she sat at the table and concentrated on eating rather than her strange bouts of fancy regarding a man she’d just met. The pasta was excellent, although with how famished she was, an airport sandwich would’ve moved her to tears.
Once finished, she sipped her glass of wine, a sweet and slightly tart white that paired well with the remnants of creamy pasta on her tongue, and allowed herself, finally, to think.
Edward was alive. She stopped him from breaking the statute of secrecy that the Volturi held in such high regard, but in doing so, revealed she was still alive and, consequently, was herself a threat to the vampires’ hidden existence.
There were only two options: death or transformation. A shiver crawled up her spine. Maybe, finally, she would obtain what she so ardently wished for, immortality. Before, she’d wanted Edward to bite her so they could be joined in eternity, but was that what she still wanted?
He had left her, alone, crying, in the middle of a forest where he knew there were bears, mountain lions and a multitude of other dangers. Victoria, to name only one.
Could she still trust Edward to have her best interests in mind? Did he still? Did he ever? He’d broken her when he abandoned her. The hand that had held her heart so stiffly had clenched and shattered it into pieces she was still looking for. Could she come back to him and look at his face for a small eternity when all she thought of was her anger and betrayal?
No. Probably not.
If the Volturi accepted her petition for immortality, maybe she could offer her service in the guard? As thanks, or penance, depending on their mood. Aro’s interest in her inability to read her could be a good bargaining chip; if she turned out to be a gifted vampire, she could strengthen his coven. In this, Aro’s hunger for power wasn’t foreign to her. She had read her share of books with power-hungry monarchs over the years.
Maybe she could travel, scour the globe and at last discover the sights and sounds that so fascinated her. Live with vampires from other countries, learn alongside them from the tales they accepted to share, learn other languages and crafts. But not yet, she knew. Her thirst as a new vampire would make it difficult to travel, and she could lose control too easily. It would be stupid to finally be transformed only to be executed by the Volturi for exposing their kind.
So her two options were staying with the Cullens, and probably be transformed by one of them, or stay with the Volturi, as a guest or an employee (servant? Minion? Staff? —Whatever).
If she went with the Cullens, who would bite her? Not Jasper, for sure. Unless she wanted to be drained like a Capri Sun. Also, she didn’t want him to feel guilty about killing her.
Not Rosalie, she had made more than clear that she didn’t particularly like her and would surely despise the idea of having Bella join her family in that way.
Emmett and Esme were unknown variables, but from what she had seen, both would follow the lead of their partners on the matter. So Carlisle, Edward or Alice then.
She didn’t want it to be Edward. Beyond his difficulties with her blood (‘la tua cantate’, Aro had said), she didn’t trust him enough anymore to allow him to change her. Plus, she didn’t think he’d ever agree to it. He’d probably rather have her die than be changed, and that was out of the question.
Alice or Carlisle.
Carlisle would be her best chance of survival. He’d turned the rest of his coven, apart from Jasper, so she knew he wouldn’t drain her as soon as he bit her. But he, like Edward, seemed to regard their existence as a form of punishment rather than the incredible opportunity it was. He would surely feel guilty, even if faced with no other choice. Could she live with Carlisle looking at her like she was already dead for the rest of her immortal life?
Alice? The woman clearly wanted Bella to join her family; she’d told her as much, but she, too, had departed without a goodbye, abandoning her to the void the Cullens had left behind. But she believed Alice would be able to resist the call of her blood; she hugged her—had hugged her—often enough that maybe she’d be able to restrain her urges.
Bella huffed. Alice and Carlisle were the only viable options among the Cullens, and still, they had more cons than pros.
So, someone from the Volturi, maybe? But would they accept? Would they see it as a favour for which she owed them or a necessary and usual task? Did they have someone in the guard responsible for biting promising humans? She couldn’t imagine Aro, Caius or Marcus doing it themselves, in any case.
Logically, staying with the Volturi would be for the best. She could learn, be protected, ask questions about vampirism and obtain more positive answers than with the Cullens. There was the matter of their human-based diet, but surely a solution could be found.
She would have to go back to Forks before coming back and be changed. Charlie would never rest if she didn’t return from her trip. It would be ironic that her change was what brought a police officer to the Volturi’s doors.
Maybe she could go back, offer to be monitored by a Volturi escort as a show of good faith and to be sure she didn’t say anything about vampires, tell her father she had been invited to interview for a university course and have an accident on the road? It would be painful for Charlie, but she’d have the opportunity to say goodbye and leave on better terms, hug him one last time. It would also be easy to find a corpse that looked like her and fake the necessary injuries. Accidents were rarely bloodless affairs after all.
It would also allow her to leave Forks and its suffering behind, start anew in her death. She quite liked that idea.
Now, all that was left was convincing the Volturi to change her—and to let her stay.
She ran a hand over her face, fiercely happy she hadn’t put any makeup on, and breathed out forcefully. Already, she knew it wouldn’t go well. Edward, especially, was sure to dig his heels in when she offered her proposition.
No matter. He had no say in her life and future. Not anymore. He’d lost that when he broke her heart.
On the couch, Harry groaned as he stretched, blinking the sleep away. His glasses were skewed. His messy hair, sticky in every direction, gave him an owlish look.
“Shit,” he said, “I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep. Were you waiting long?”
Bella shook her head. “It’s only been a few minutes, I got out of the shower maybe, like, ten minutes ago? I needed the time to think, anyway.”
Harry snorted. “Bet you did. Still up for a tour of the gardens?”
Nodding her assent, he held out his hand once more and placed it on his arm. It was a strangely dated action, more at place within a Jane Austen novel than in her life.
The gardens were indeed striking. Nestled in the heart of the Palazzo, they were delicate, timeless and rife with hues of green, pink, purple, and so many different trees and flowers. Lush and heavy lavender shrubs bordered the gravel path, alight with the delicate buzzing of the foraging bees and colourful butterflies. Further away, she could see a hedge maze, its high walls decorated with iron lanterns sticking out of the shrubbery.
“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered, not wishing to break the peaceful atmosphere.
“It really is. The first time I came here, I was a little unsure about the maze, to be honest, but the rest of it is certainly something.”
“Not a fan of mazes?” Bella asked.
Harry grimaced. “The only one I ever went in didn’t end very well for me. One time was more than enough.” And left it at that.
They kept walking in silence until they arrived at a stone bench. It looked as though it had been plucked from a museum. White marble, untouched by time or elements, trumpeting angels etched on its back and the end of the seat carved in delicate curves mimicking scrollwork.
The man sat and lounged back, inviting her to sit next to him.
“So, now that you’re fed and warmed up,” he said, piercing her with his emerald gaze, “What is all this fuss about?”
“It’s a long story…” she fidgeted.
He hummed.
A calming breath. Then another. And another. Anoth—
Harry took her hand in his. After the cold, the warmth of his skin was a welcome comfort. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But trust me, these things have a way of eating you up. You’ll feel better if you can at least talk about it with someone who’ll take the time to listen to everything and isn’t part of the story.”
True. It wasn’t like she could talk about any of this to someone other than the Cullens.
“Right, yeah. I suppose it all started when I moved from Phoenix to Forks to live with my dad…”
And talk she did. The mysterious boy and his reaction to her in Biology class, the car accident, her research and the book in which she found her answers, the attack in Port Angeles while out shopping, Edward’s confession, the start of their relationship, the baseball game, the hunt, and James.
James.
James.
Harry rubbed her back, a gesture soothing enough to allow her to continue.
Then her birthday, Jasper’s loss of control, and Edward’s brutal end of their romance. She stuttered over her depression, the void growing in her chest, and the way it devoured everything around her and within her, the lengths she went to hear him, see him again, putting her safety in danger again and again, if only to feel alive. She smiled a little when talking about Jacob, staying silent on his tribe and their abilities because it wasn’t her secret to tell.
And after, when she jumped from the cliff, Alice arriving at her house, telling her Edward believed her to be dead, their mad rush to Italy, the run against time itself, and, finally, the start of her audience with the three kings.
When she finished, she felt lighter than she had in months.
“Well. That’s fucked up,” Harry chukled.
Taken aback, she snickered, then laughed until it hurt, laughed until she couldn’t stop, laughed until it became pained sobs she hadn’t felt coming.
“Oh dear, I’m sorry,” he rushed closer to her and rubbed her arms slowly. “My best friend always tells me and my mate have the emotional range of teaspoons, and, I mean, she’s not wrong.”
Harry held her while she cried, her sobs wracking her frame. Each tear gutted her anew and cleansed her at the same time. With the tears came relief, one that hadn’t come when she’d exhausted herself crying after the Cullens left. She cried for the girl she was, for the girl who had fallen in love so fast and received heartbreak in return. She cried for the way this world had wounded her and the burning wish she could still be part of it. She cried for the future she’d never have, the one ripped from under her feet without her say-so. But, most of all, she cried because through all this, she’d been alone with no one to listen.
When her sobs subsided, she heard Harry hum as he stroked her hair. It sounded like an old melody, the kind that ends up forgotten when its last singer dies. Etheral and beautifully aching.
She pulled back from the embrace. Harry held out a soft fabric tissue, which she took gratefully.
“Feel better?” he asked.
Did she? Yes, I quite believe I do, she realised with surprise. The hurt was still there, the resentment as well, but it was like she’d emptied a vase that had been overflowing for a while.
“I do actually,” she answered. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the sun, absorbing its heat, letting it dry the remaining tears on her cheeks and neck.
“Nothing better than a good cry, honestly.”
She hummed. Neither said anything for a few minutes, lulled by the distant chatter of the Volterran citizens and tourists below and the soft breeze rustling the cypress leaves and blowing away fallen petals of roses and jasmine.
“C-Can I ask, who are you exactly?” Bella asked, breaking the silence regretfully.
Harry snorted. He, too, had his eyes closed, and his face turned to the sun. She closed her eyes again, slipping back into the shared camaraderie. “I wondered when you’d ask me that.”
“That's me. Bella Swan, too damn curious for her own good.”
“I don’t know. Sometimes it's good to be curious and not just accept whatever excuse you’re given. Dig deeper. But then my curiosity has brought me nothing but problems, so maybe I’m not the best to give advice on that,” he said with a laugh. “You could say I’m an ambassador. I suppose you’ve worked out that I can’t exactly be human?”
She nodded. “There are other things out there than vampires. I’m one of them, let’s put it that way, and I’ve been sent to speak with the Volturi so we can forge agreements and alliances.”
“Wow,” she breathed. “Can I know more about what, who, you are?”
“Unfortunately, not. Not yet, in any case. When your situation is resolved, you’ll be allowed to know a little more. But even then, only Aro, Caius and Marcus know the entire truth of it,” he replied.
“I understand.”
“I know you do.” He searched his pocket and fished out a pack of cigarettes, which he offered to her. When she declined, he shrugged and lit one, breathing out the smoke and letting it curl upwards. “So, what now?”
“Well… I suppose that—”
“Master Harry!” a voice cried behind them. Bella jumped from the bench and turned. Standing a few feet away, Heidi glared at Harry with her hands on her hips and a truly impressive scowl marring her face.
Harry jerked back and threw his cigarette away, holding his breath to keep the smoke in his lungs.
Heidi didn’t move, and for fifteen long, agonising, seconds, none of them said anything, locked in their quiet standoff of gazes.
At last, Harry bowed his head and exhaled, thin and almost translucent smoke escaping from his mouth. Heidi sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. With a silent giggle, Bella realised Harry had never looked so much like a disobedient teenager faced with his mother’s wrath.
“You are aware we can smell that from inside, yes?” she ranted.
“Bollocks,” he whispered, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin, “sorry about the smell.”
She growled. For a moment, Bella feared Heidi would attack him, but then she opened her mouth again.
“It’s not about the smell, you idiotic man! Do you have any idea what these things do to your body?”
“Love, it’s not like—”
She held her hand up imperiously. “Do not interrupt me right now. You’re already exposed to enough poison created by humans. Why would you add to it? Tar, nicotine, chemicals—honestly, if you’re so desperate to inhale something, try fresh air for a change!”
Bella giggled out loud then, and Heidi seemed to remember she was there. For an instant, she darted a fearful look at Harry and bowed her head. “Apologies for the familiarity, I overstepped and—”
“Nah, dear, it’s alright,” Harry interrupted. “You’re right anyway. Merlin knows the others give me enough shit about this, I know it comes from a good place.”
Merlin? Like the wizard? Was that a British slang term she didn’t know? It was a bit strange.
“Just remember, it doesn’t do as much damage to me as them, ok?” he finished with an impish grin as he lit another cigarette.
Heidi pursed her lips. It was clear to Bella that the gorgeous woman wanted to add something, but ultimately refrained. “Master Aro sent me to bring you back. It is time.”
Bella’s heart faltered. This was it. She had made her bed; now she would lie in it. Either forever or for the agonising burning of her change.