Till Death (Volturi / Twilight Fanfiction)

12 1/2: Sorrow of the Ancient

Volterra Italy 

The day before's festivities had brought about a roar of joy to the small town of Volterria. The citizens of the city had celebrated the birth of Christ with such a bash as to shake the very foundation of the city of alabaster. The days following were rather lackluster in comparison. Of course, there was the new year celebration to prepare for but there were also days between the two holidays. These days felt like limbo, as they did every year. The city was quiet when Marcus arrived the day after Christmas. Which was preferable to the sad, sad man. The weather matched his melancholy, grey skies did not flatter the city and rendered the tinted windows of his limousine unnecessary. The joy of the day before had washed away with the winter rain, in both the city and in Marcus' own heart. Though, he did not fully understand why his joy was ever present before the rain. Indeed, perplexing.

The vehicle slowed to a stop in front of his magnificent residence. An alabaster castle fitted in regal decorum which placed it outside of the twenty-first century. An unknown, unimportant, guard exited the driver's seat and made way at an annoyingly human pace to open Marcus' door. He was stopped, and instead, the door was opened by Felix, a fiercely loyal brute clad in grey who did not believe the lesser guard to be worthy of even opening the door for one of his kings. He wore a smug expression at the lesser guard's perplexion, for Felix was worthy. But Marcus had not a care for who opened his door, he had hardly a care to exit at all. Yet he did, and as he did he felt upon his face a drop of rain. Slowly he wiped it off his cheek as if to check if it was really there. It felt warm against his cold corpse. Without an order Felix snapped open an umbrella, holding it high above the master's head. Marcus did not thank him for this, only started his trek forward with the umbrella wielder in tow. It was only a light shower anyway.  

The square was unoccupied, no humans witnessed the dapper man ascend the stairs. If they had they might've stayed to watch. To try to understand why a man so inhumanly handsome looked so at home in the rain. They may've watched Felix open the door for the man, watched him enter the palace, and contemplate the inner workings of the city's oldest architecture. And appreciated how easily the man fit within the elegant aura of its regal architecture. But none were present, and Marcus would not have appreciated the stares anyhow. 

Other than his dampened cheek Marcus was untouched by the rain, yet Felix offered to take his coat anyhow. He waved the offer away in an uninterested manner, thinking nothing of the cold or wet. Thinking about how comfortable she looked in her yellow puffer coat, and how he had hoped to offer his own covering that day. But of course, she was prepared for the cold already. He closed his eyes a moment, clearing his head, and suppressing a smile. Wondering why he felt the need to do so at all. He walked no faster than a human, forcing his elite guard to follow the same. He really did have eternity to arrive at his destination, why rush? The art, the sculptures, paintings, pieces of weaponry, passed by unnoticed on his route. These did not interest him. But perhaps he would peruse the library later on. It had been a long time since he read. 

The doors ahead of him were large, dark, decorated in blackened iron. They did not hold his destination but Felix opened them all the same. Marcus had to pass through the feeding room in order to reach his goal. He smelled fresh blood, they had dined without him. But Marcus had done so without his brothers in turn, in Greece. He had to, lest he kill her. Her scent was entirely enticing, it nearly turned him animalistic when he first inhaled her sweetened aroma. He wanted to taste it, but he did not want to kill her. He did not know why he cared. 

The final door opened to another rounded corridor. At its center was a warmly colored carpet, handmade in another tuscan village. At its borders were tables and the like, housing floral arrangements and unlit candles within intricate holders. Sconces were also unlit. Love seats were empty, with reading materials stacked upon the nightstands beside them. And to his left was carved a grand fireplace, large, clean, with fire burning red within its enclosure. Four chairs sat angled at one another around the flame, two housed his goals. His brothers, whom he needed to see before retiring to his duties in his study. Aro was reading an old book without a title to its cover. Caius simply stared into the fire opposite Aro, maybe not noticing Marcus' entrance, maybe not caring. They were not as close as they were to Aro, in fact, Aro may be the only link that keeps them associating at all. There was no malice just a lack of familiarity and a lack of want to change that.