If you haven't read my 1926 story, here's all you need to know for this one: I had Aro find out about Edward's gift back in 1926, and he sent Demetri and Jane to offer him a position in the Guard. He declined, but that incident led to a growing sense of dissatisfaction, which led into the beginning of his rebellious period the next year.

And if you haven't read the Illustrated Guide, it's important to know that Demetri was created by Amun. Demetri didn't want to leave his creator, or join the Volturi at all; Aro used Chelsea to force his loyalty.

The truth is, I love Demetri-maybe it's his tragic back story, or his creepy gift, but I just love him. I can't even decide if he's good or evil here... I suppose we'll figure it out as we go along. This was going to be a little one-shot, but you know me...

Disclaimer: The Twilight Saga and its universe belongs to Stephenie Meyer. This story contains direct dialogue from New Moon.

March 19, 2006

Demetri POV

I stormed down the corridor, approaching the door at the end all too soon. I spun around, my cloak swirling and snapping out like a flag behind me as I walked back the other direction. I was pacing at human speed, because I would just hit the end of the corridor faster otherwise.

It was one of those days. I loved my Master, but I hated times like this, when I was forced to spend weeks at a time in Volterra, the stone walls and the darkness closing in on me. I was meant to be active, searching, pursuing. My muscles trembled with energy, and my gift ached with disuse.

I stopped pacing and leaned my head back against the damp, cold wall of the corridor, taking care not to lean back with my shoulders. God forbid I should get moisture on my cloak, after all. I wanted to tear it off and burn it. Just once, would it be so bad to have my throat free of its leash?!

Careful, Demetri.

I took a deep, quick breath in through my nose, exhaling slowly as I stared up at the cracks in the ceiling. My arms hung loose at my sides, my fingertips grazing the inner lining of the cloak. I could feel the inconsistencies in the fabric, the worn horizontal paths that my fingers had made over the past few weeks. I swung my fingers back and forth along the silk, beating in time with the pulsing burn in my throat. I closed my eyes, chiding myself for thinking about my thirst; it would only make it worse, and Heidi wasn't due back until tomorrow, around one o'clock. Thirteen miserable hours.

It wasn't like this when I was out in the field. You got thirsty, you hunted. I ran my tongue along my teeth, remembering the last time. It had been in Colombia, when we had gone to deal with yet another surge of violence between the Southern Covens. I was grateful to them, in a way, for their stubborn refusal to behave themselves, and grateful to my Master for his quiet orders that we were never to stomp out the Wars completely. He had his reasons, I suppose, reasons involving politics and world peace and those things that occupied his time. My own reasons were far more selfish; our frequent trips to Central America were the only thing that had kept me sane lately. There were other problems throughout the world that required my attention from time to time, but I could always depend on the Southern Covens to get me out of Volterra on a regular basis. When I wasn't able to use my gift for weeks at a time, I began getting antsy like this, claustrophobic. And it had been getting worse in the last couple of decades. I needed to be searching, and I needed to hunt like a real vampire sometimes.

I didn't know how the Coven could stand it. Caius was like me- always itching to go out on the next mission, to stretch his legs and use his teeth in the way they were meant to be used. He was so old, though, that his impatience usually took months to build, whereas mine took weeks. And Aro did get out every century or so. But Marcus, and the Wives! How did they stand it? I got out more than anyone else except Heidi, and I could barely stand it! Having our blood brought to us at feeding time, like puppies in a pet store! Feeding on a damned schedule, and never hunting.

It was at times like this that I dared remember the man I had once called Father. Not that I had really been free then, either; Amun had kept me hidden most of the time. And the sands had been irritating to the senses, but at least they had been wide and open, when he let me out to hunt. At least I had been free to hunt, not having to wait for the excuse of an expedition. The flames roared in my throat again at the memory, and my fingers pushed back through the silk and velvet, digging into the ancient stone with a crunching sound.

Stop, I scolded myself. This is disloyal. You have a new Master now, a better one. But my treacherous mind lingered in the past. Nine hundred years, and I still couldn't quite recall why I had left my creator. I wondered what he was up to these days. I wouldn't say that I had loved him, per se, but-

"Redecorating?"

Chelsea appeared suddenly, Afton just stepping out from in front of her. I pulled away from the wall, my movement echoed by the sound of stone dust hitting the floor. I reached back again, smoothing away the holes I had just dug. "That's very annoying," I growled.

"Even I get bored sometimes, Demetri," she said, nodding for her mate to continue on. He sauntered down the corridor, looking back over the shoulder of his cloak with a disdainful smirk. I ground my teeth, wishing I could wipe that smirk off his arrogant face… or better yet, tear it off. But it wasn't permitted; the color of his mate's cloak forbade anyone from touching the useless piece of filth.

I turned back to Chelsea with an impatient sigh. "What are you about, besides playing hide and seek with your pet shield? I haven't seen you in weeks."

She cocked her head to the side, studying me. "Aro sent me to find you."

I stood taller, my woes forgotten. I turned to go, sweeping the castle with my gift in order to find him.

"He doesn't need you," she said flatly. "He sent me to see if you were all right. He thought you looked upset earlier, and here I find you dismantling the castle. Want to talk about it?"

"Not with you," I grunted. "Go away." I hated it when she did this; she couldn't possibly understand what it was like. My gift was different from everyone else's. No one else understood my need to be out, to be hunting, to be searching. And Chelsea, all snug with her idiotic mate, didn't understand the concept of loneliness. She couldn't.

"As you wish," she said politely. She stared at me for another moment in that piercing way that she had, and then she walked on.

"Always do," I muttered to her back. Chelsea's gift was one of the more nebulous ones; none of us in the Guard quite understood what it was she did, or why Aro was so ridiculously fond of her. She got anything she wanted, including that idiot Afton, who didn't even deserve to wear the cloak. She hadn't been so smug back when she had been sharing my bed. Her name had been Colette at the time. But those days were long gone now, and Afton never passed up the chance to shoot me that triumphant smirk of his. You would think rubbing it in would get old after eight hundred years. Moronic child.

But it was true; I always felt better after these little talks. Or rather, after one of her looks. She hadn't graced me with that particular sort of attention since 1987. I rolled my shoulders, taking stock of myself. I was feeling better already. My theory was that Chelsea's gift was like Corin's, only that she gave a more productive form of contentment- something vague that helped us function as a team. Chelsea kept us calm… civilized, cohesive. I had thought about asking her whether my guess was correct, back when we were intimate for that first century of my wearing the cloak. Aro had been so pleased when Chelsea – when Colette and I had been drawn to each other for a while. Encouraged it, even. But nosing around about each other's gifts was forbidden; Caius called it "getting above yourselves, inviting dissention and jealousy". Though if my theory was correct, it wasn't that exciting of a gift, and I didn't see why she deserved the black cloak just for being a drug. And one of two, at that. After all that I had done for Aro, my cloak should be at least two shades darker than it was...

My shoulders relaxed, and I chided myself for thinking ill of my Master's decisions. If he thought that this shade of gray was best for me, then it was. He was more of a father to me than Amun had ever been. I was lucky that he had rescued me from that bitter old man and his broken-down temple. I had known who I wanted to follow, after a moment's consideration, and I had left Amun without a second glance. Good riddance.

As my contentment grew in the wake of Chelsea's assistance, I relaxed further. My thirst cooled somewhat, and the walls that had been closing in on me a moment ago seemed a bit brighter. Yes, this was the better home. I still wanted to get out for a run soon, but I had been foolish to think that no one understood my claustrophobia. Aro understood me. He knew my innermost heart, and he understood why I sometimes had these thoughts that were less than grateful. Perhaps if I gave him my hand today, he would be gracious and send me on some sort of mission. Any mission.

My throat tightened when I realized what else he would see when he took my hand. He would see what I had just been thinking, before Chelsea had found me. He would hear my discontent, and he would be hurt. The thought caused me physical pain, and I scrambled my thoughts in a plea for forgiveness, knowing he would hear that later, as well. I didn't mean it, Master, you know that. It was only a moment of weakness, brought on by the thirst. You know that my heart only finds happiness in serving you. Leaving Amun was the best decision I ever made. Forgive an errant son.

I blew out my breath, wondering if I should hurry and give him my hand now, to show my loyalty once again. Perhaps he would let my hand linger a moment, so I could silently reassure him of my admiration in person. I knew he loved these fawning thoughts, but he liked to keep them unspoken. It was one of the things I loved most about my Master; his humility was so inspiring, considering his power. He always had a kind word for his children, never harsh like Caius, never inattentive like Marcus. And as much as I ached to kneel in his presence sometimes, he usually forbade such displays, gentling reminding me that he saw me as a beloved son, not a subject. I served the Three loyally, as Aro liked, but he knew when my heart lay. At least he let me call him Master, though he insisted that I use the term for all Three.

I turned around, staring sadly down at the destruction I had caused. I stirred the loosened dust with the toe of my boot. I would have to arrange for Santiago to take care of it; he was our best mason. My guilt increased as I realized that Aro would see this, as well. Why had I been so discontented lately? I had one of most coveted roles in the Guard, and I lived in the greatest fortress our world had ever seen. Aro loved this castle. How could I be so careless, to hurt him like this? I resolved to be more worthy of his affection, his approval in the future. My hand ached to touch his, to show him my allegiance… but that should wait until I got a new cloak. My fidgeting lately had damaged the silk underneath, and I wanted to present myself in top form.

I strode down the corridor again, but with my head held high this time, and with purpose quickening my steps. But as I swung the door open, I nearly walked right into Felix, who was just reaching for the doorknob from the other side.

"What's the rush?" I asked.

"We have a visitor. I'm headed up front to bring him in."

"Anyone we know?"

He snorted. "Well, you've met him before. Edward Cullen."

My breath caught as my gift flared to life, seeking him. I found his presence immediately; he was already within the walls. Finally!

"I'll take this one," I said, spinning back to head to the front desk.

"But Aro said for me to-"

"Shut up, Felix," I sighed, slamming the door in his face. I flew down the hall at top speed this time, eager to bring Edward before my Master. This would be just the thing to convince Aro of my loyalty today, new cloak or not. My failure had eaten at me for years, following my botched attempt at recruiting the mind reader. I didn't usually meet with such difficulty, though I had never attempted to recruit a gifted vampire before.

I had truly been surprised when young Edward had rejected my offer, though I suppose I should have expected some sort of foolishness from anyone created by Carlisle Cullen- what an eccentric. His extended visit three hundred years ago had been an endless source of amusement to those of us in the Guard. But it was a little unnerving to see him raising up a coven lately, all golden-eyed and playing human. Their eyes were just the outward manifestation of their many peculiarities. But to reject an offer to join the Guard, especially when his gift would clearly place him high in Aro's favor… utter madness. It appeared he had finally come to his senses, at least. I would present him to Aro myself, and we would have our new Guard by sunrise.

We'll meet Edward in the next chapter. Let me know what you think so far!