TAINTED BLOOD (Aro Volturi X Reader)

On-Going

Rivendell was filled with a hushed urgency these past few days. The normally serene Elven halls that adored Rivendell since they arrived, now echoed with the soft tread of healers, servants, war generals and the occasional, wracking cough that shook Aro to his core.

Aro's skin, was slowly reclaiming its natural, dusky hue. The sun, however, seemed to hold no warmth for him. His eyes still held a flicker of pain, a constant reminder of the ordeal he had endured. Y/N watched him, her heart aching with a silent sorrow. He was strong, a warrior through and through, yet his usual swagger was replaced with a fragility that tore at her.

Aro, despite his outward attempts at stoicism, struggled. Every sip of the specially prepared blood, served in a delicate goblet, was a reminder of his loss. The lack of his fangs, once a symbol of his power and predatory grace, was a constant, throbbing ache. He winced occasionally, a faint grimace crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a forced smile.

"Aro," Y/N would say softly, her hand gently resting on his arm during their quiet moments. He would offer a weak smile, his gaze drifting to the intricate Elven patterns of the tapestry that adorned the wall. It was a futile attempt to hide the pain that etched itself into his features.

The healers, though skilled and kind, were limited. They spoke of a slow healing process, into his very being needing time to mend. Y/N, though not a healer, was a constant presence. Her voice a soothing balm to his restless mind. She even made him her medicinal tea as she had in Volturi.

One evening, as the last rays of the setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, Aro looked at Y/N. "The pain... it never truly leaves," he confessed, his voice a low rasp.

Y/N's heart clenched. She knew he was strong, but even the strongest warriors had their limits. She took his hand, her fingers intertwining with his. "It will fade, Aro," she whispered, her voice filled with a conviction she hoped she truly felt. "It will. And you will be whole again."

His gaze softened, a flicker of gratitude in his crimson eyes. They were slowly regaining their rogue color and the cloudiness was disappearing. He squeezed her hand, a silent acknowledgment of her unwavering support. The road to recovery was long, filled with moments of discomfort and pain, but with Y/N by his side, Aro knew he could face it. He had faced worse, and he would face this too, fueled by the hope of her gentle touch and the unwavering strength of their bond. The next few days might be filled with pain, but they would also be filled with the quiet resilience of love and unwavering hope.

The scent of honeysuckle and damp earth clung to the air, a sweet and earthy perfume that enveloped Rivendell like a comforting blanket. Whenever Aro was gone meeting with war generals and Elrond. Y/N would spend time with Arwen.

Arwen sat beside Y/N on a moss-covered stone bench, a gentle smile gracing her lips. The gardens, a riot of colour and fragrance, were their sanctuary, a place where the weight of the Volturi's power, the impending war and her upcoming birth were faded into a gentle murmur.

"Tell me again about the north, Y/N," Arwen requested, her voice like the tinkling of a hidden stream.

Y/N, her own hair braided and adorned with wildflowers, leaned back against the stone, her eyes reflecting the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves. "The north is a land of harsh beauty, Arwen. Vast plains stretching as far as the eye can see, shadowed by mountains that pierce the sky like jagged teeth." She described the icy winds that swept across the tundra, the aurora borealis painting the night sky in vibrant hues, the covens and clans that roamed the frozen lands, their lives intertwined with the rhythms of nature.

Arwen listened intently, her brow furrowed in concentration as she absorbed the tales of a land so different from the serene beauty of Rivendell. Y/N continued, her voice weaving a tapestry of stories. Yet, Y/N could not bring herself to tell her the stories of Viktor's power and cruelty.