I got the idea to write this story partly from seeing BD2 and partly from reading a twilight bio that stated Aro never truly picked a mate. He chose Sulpicia as his wife because he did not want to do pointless searching for his own and by that time, he already had plans in place to become rich and royal. An easy solution, and it got him all the power he wanted, so why bother searching? I found this information to be very interesting, and so this story sprouted. It'll be a little overwhelming at first, but as you get progressively further, it'll become easier to understand as things are revealed. I always get nervous when writing the Volturi so bear with me, and know that this will portray most of them in a darker light than I usually write since I think Aro is just a drama king with an infectious laugh. The story will get dark at times, but I'm a huge crusader of romance in stories so I do hope to work that in eventually. I don't think I've ever done a story like this before, and I hope to generate at least a bit of interest for writing convincing OC's. Above all else, enjoy!

Prologue

Part I : Courageous Departure

In the year 1352, as June welcomed a late, chill spring and Europe suffered the returning rage of the Bubonic Plague, a twenty-two year old woman gathered up her youngest child in ragged cloths, pressed a tender kiss to the boy's feverish head, then departed from her wattle and daub home, leaving her oldest son to care for her youngest.

This woman was known as Propheta to her village, or seer. She made what little money she could, reading the palms of anxious newlyweds praying for children or predicting the fortunes of farmers in the harvest time.

She resided in a miniscule village in what is now modern Italy just off the coast of the Ligurian Sea. Because of a port stationed no more than ten miles from their village, the plague was easily able to invade and nearly depopulated her town altogether.

The threat of such a deadly epidemic, however, failed to sway the seer from partaking in her journey. Few realized that a purpose lay within her expedition and by leaving behind her children, two sons that she loved dearly and wholly, only served to show how determined she was to complete her task.

So, upon venturing out her front door, unshed tears stored in her eyes, the seer offered a prayer of departure for forgotten friends. Through the muddy paths, she had to maneuver around lifeless bodies since no one was left to dig holes for them any longer. And this only made her prayers that much more heartfelt.

The putrid stench of decomposing flesh stuck with her long after the departure, attracting flies and gnats along the way, but eventually, she pushed away the scenes of those that lay dead and continued on.

After an hour or so of walking, she managed to direct herself east, a task only accomplished because she could no longer smell the saltiness of the sea. And as she walked, hidden inside her black cloak, Propheta realized that she only needed one key thing in what was to come.

Bravery.

Part II: The Nature of Propheta

As a child, Propheta believed God wouldn't allow her entrance into heaven. Surely such a strange gift as fortune telling only attracted devils and pagans. And the few seers she'd known, often disassociated themselves from any religion altogether, claiming various mystical deities determined their faith.

By far, her childhood had been the worst as visions of lives not her own, intruded upon her mind's eye. Deaths and births of persons in lands she did not recognize nor could explain, repeated in vivid detail beneath the lids of her eyes, often frightening her mother as well as unsettling the village.

Whether due to the stress of simply pushing them away or maybe a God above pitied her struggle, she couldn't say, but after having her firstborn, Vici, the number of visions steadily plummeted. Where in a simple day, two visions would invade her thoughts, after Vici's birth, it was lucky if she got one a week.

Then again, who was Propheta to argue? While the visions had earned her a living, they also casted her out of society and deemed her wicked by those who worshipped a God. They were an anomaly to be sure, even if she managed to have the slightest of control over them.

To her misfortune, the ones she had control over were not the ones that would have her paralyzed in fear afterwards, clutching murderously at her heart with tears stinging her eyes.

Often, the visions she had little control over, related to people she had never met, living in areas she'd only heard of from travelers or not at all. And unfortunately, death or misery were usually the endings of those unfamiliar visions.

Because she knew nothing of the people she saw or of the foreign lands they lived in, in the end, she could do nothing to help them.

That alone forced a great guilty burden to anchor itself in Propheta's heart without remorse.

Turbulent years passed by before she realized time and helping others had taught her a very important lesson.

A possibility for salvation existed.

If she used her gift for good and lived the life of a generous woman with compassion for others, then God had to at least consider accepting her. He created beings in his own image, and even the most bizarre of talents surely held purpose in the chaos that was the world.

Because she knew this: the world was in a desperate chaos. Strolling through the abysmal remains of villages and towns, some charred beyond recognition, others displaying lines of the dead in its streets, told her this.

Yet despite the tragic nature of the world, she understood her sight held a purpose.

The very journey she embarked on, in fact, was conceived in a vision she'd had days ago. And while normally Propheta would let the vision play out without interruption, this time around, something very unexpected occurred. Something that sealed her destiny and gave her the strength to stride for a chance at salvation not just for herself, but her sons.

For once, in her twenty two years of living, she knew where to go. What faraway land to travel to.

The vision had darkened ambiguously at the very end, giving her little chance to guess if she would survive the meeting. Because while the man in the vision had been magnificent to behold, a danger lurked in his eye that she hadn't yet encountered nor could place an emotion for.

However, she had a bargaining tool far more precious than money or territory itself.

Knowledge of the man's future.

And what man wouldn't crave to know himself in the years to come?

Part III: The Nature of Fear

It took Propheta seven days to reach the city from her vision, and not a moment too soon.

Even though she hardly ventured outside of her village, she knew of how the world worked now that the disease took thousands by the hour. When the first outbreaks had begun, images danced chaotically in her head, informing her of what terror overpowered everyone from the monarchs down to the peasants. A world of dense fear and religious fever shook humanity down to its core and the desperate attempts at cleansing away the sickness, only caused great misfortune to travelers who passed by without awareness, often being murdered or sacrificed unjustly.

She had nearly stumbled upon such persons on the fifth day of travel. A group of fourteen or fifteen white cloaked men, bearing angry, red repentance marks upon their naked backs, dragged a man down from a tree he'd hid in and proceeded to stone him to death.

Their chants to the sky came soon after, begging God that with this death, the illness would cease.

Propheta quickly moved on, knowing there was nothing she could have done for the man. Which didn't exactly make it any easier, but she remembered that this journey wasn't just for herself. It was for her sons as well.

As she strolled through diseased street after diseased street, miles away, her youngest son, Astron baked in a hellish fury, the sickness ravaging his four year old body. And Vici, her firstborn, had only a matter of time before he succumbed to the same symptoms.

Just thinking that they could both be dead by the time she returned, forced an ache unlike any Propheta ever felt to slumber inside her. If death indeed did occur, no amount of goodness she did would ever make up for her abandonment.

She remembered when the deaths first began, how neighbors would swarm around her home, terrified and confused of this epidemic that killed everything it touched and left their loved ones looking as if they had kissed death's black lips themselves. Propheta had gotten few visions that could explain the fear and hysteria in the air, and the lack of answers stirred that fear into outright terror.

She did know, however, even though it hardly mattered now, that the disease had ravaged unfamiliar cities and kingdoms farther east of them and that they were not the first bearers of such gruesome ends.

Eventually, her neighbors took to sheltering themselves, realizing that the disease spread through the air. And she was just barely able to avoid the decimation of her home from the riots they'd nearly created.

Part IV: Bittersweet Luck Revealed

Blinking against stubborn tears, Propheta gazed longingly at the clay engraving of the lady Zita, helpless to the somberness and relief coursing through her. Only because she caught a glimpse of the engraving in her vision, did she know her destination. And she knew her destination because of her mother.

Long ago, before her mother had turned cold and dismissive toward the world and her family, she'd been a free spirit, born into a poor family. A story so commonly told, and often ending so tragically.

In the very city she stood, her mother, decades ago, had been hired by a family as a servant. Although treated unjustly at times and jilted out of proper means of income, her mother never lost hope in her situation nor hated those who harbored ill intent toward her.

"Zita helped me in those years," she used to recount, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Everyone who worked for the wealthy, knew of her, especially here in the city. Not even a hundred years ago she had worked for a rich family who abused and mistreated her. Rather than anger, however, she practiced forgiveness toward them and love to those who had harmed her. The household employing her, eventually declared her a part of their family because her love and devotion to them and to God, changed their lives and bettered them. Made them good people."

To think now that her mother ever spoke so fondly about her own childhood almost seemed comedic. Until her date of death, she made sure no one could escape her poisonous moods. And somewhere along the way, she'd lost the lessons she'd learned from Zita altogether.

But Propheta never forgot the story, passing it on to Vici when he grew old enough to understand, maybe because it helped remind her that once long ago, her mother existed as a beautiful, passionate soul. And it was far better to remember her in this way than what she had become in the last years of her life.

The engraving before her appeared just as her mother had described - Zita tending to a child's wound with one hand while a halo hovered inches above her, indicating how holy she was already regarded as.

For a moment, Propheta contemplated the incredible luck involved in knowing her mother's childhood tale of Zita. If not for recognizing the features, she would have never guessed to come here through the vision.

Gracious luck indeed. And she hoped it would not run out for the hours to come.

Part V: A Final Warning

"Stay back," the blacksmith warned, cloth covering his mouth.

Propheta frowned, but obeyed the command. "I require help, sir."

"I am out of business until the harvest," he muttered, one hand gathering his tools up as he snuck her quick glares.

"I am not looking for a weapon. Only a location."

The man reluctantly paused, scanning her form again with a grunt.

"Where?"

"It is a palace," Propheta recalled rapidly, eyes briefly closing as pieces of the vision manifested themselves before her. "Three men reside upon thrones, terribly pale and with the strangest eyes. They-."

"Volterra," the man interrupted sullenly, eyes suddenly wide and cautious.

"Volterra," she repeated, smiling slowly. "Thank you."

Lifting away his handkerchief, the man appeared on the verge of divulging something very important.

Eventually, however, he decided against it and stuffed the cloth back over his mouth to keep out the poisoned air.

His agitation, though, receded to something Propheta recognized rather easily.

Pity interlaced with fear. Aimed at her.

He scurried away without a single word, and Propheta knew enough to interpret this alone as a bad omen.

Still, she had not walked for nearly seven days straight just to return home. If she could not dismiss her own fear, then she could at least find courage in the underlining reason of why she came.

Astron and Vici.

And so, to Volterra she journeyed.

Part VI: The Pale Man's Future

"Have you come for religious purposes?" the woman inquired, ushering her into the darkened hall.

"No," Propheta admitted, helpless not to admire the woman's beauty. "I wish to speak to a man whom resides in these walls."

The woman offered Propheta a smile, but no warmness rested inside, something Propheta found faintly familiar from her own mother's.

Yet, this devious grin did nothing to weather away at the woman's physique. She walked with an elegant posture composed of confidence and royalty, expertly practiced and desirable for the eternal stretch of legs and heavenly curves seemingly mocking the dress for its own perfection. She had curly, chestnut hair resting in a soft bun - proclaiming innocence even though her lips said otherwise. Through the dimness of the hall, the seer could not make out the woman's eyes, but they seemed to shine regardless with a powerful emotion.

What really stole Propheta's attention, however, was the stunning smoothness of her skin. Like white alabaster, lacking the depressions and aches of age and time. Both of which made enemies of all humans, especially in such an uncertain time.

The woman, quite simply, was the epitome of perfection and had Propheta not had a prior sense of foreboding from the blacksmith and the woman's own strange smile, she would have gladly dismissed her own unease if not for just another moment to gaze upon the breath taking woman.

"To which...man are you referring to? There is Marcus, Caius, and Aro," she informed, fingers swinging themselves in the air. "Aro is my husband, but I have a peculiar feeling he will be the one you will wish to speak to."

"He may be," Propheta agreed quietly, forcing her eyes to the ground. "May I ask who you are?"

Grinning with the same unnerving smile, the woman sped up, her feet hardly making a sound over the stone floors. "I am Sulpicia."

Propheta nearly stumbled over her feet, eyes finding the woman in disbelief this time.

"Come along. You wish to ask a question, yes?" she inquired without so much as glancing back.

Swallowing past the dryness in her throat, Propheta nodded, falling in step once more.

But having learned the woman's name revealed that more than likely, her husband indeed would be the man she had traveled miles to meet. The man in her vision who appeared to be frozen in time.

And this...Sulpicia woman, well, she would not be pleased with what Propheta had to say.

So lost in these heavysome thoughts, the seer hardly realized Sulpicia had suddenly ceased in her footsteps and currently watched her intensely, smile still in place as one hand rested on a curved door handle. Only after an equally intense stare, was Propheta able to note a faint, malevolent, red sparkle shining within the pale woman's eyes.

But as soon as Propheta blinked, Sulpicia's eyes were vacant of the tainted red. So, in her uncertainty, she attributed it to the flickering of the torches throughout the hall.

"I must admit it is rare to have visitors travel here from such a far destination," she acknowledged in an attempt to flatter, tilting her head. "Your journey was admirable through these terrible times and I hope you will have the answer you seek by the end of this evening."

"How is it you know I traveled from so far away?" Propheta questioned, that prior weight of foreboding becoming heavier and heavier within her stomach.

"I can smell the sea on you," was her soft whisper back.

With those cryptic words, Sulpicia gave her a final smile before pushing open the door, and with an eager hand, ushering Propheta forward.

The seer fought back all of the warnings her body sent out, only keeping her dearest sons and the lady Zita in mind. If not for them, she'd have never gained the courage to enter the cold and remarkably just as dusky room.

"Aro, Caius, Marcus," Sulpicia addressed, smile slipping into a smirk as she strutted forward, "I have brought you a woman who wishes to speak to one of you."

Propheta disregarded every other body in the room save for the man sitting directly before her. Because in that stunning moment, no one mattered but him.

The man from her vision.

It took only one glance for her to become tragically entranced by his features. The arch of a perfect brow and the knowing twist of his cherry blossom lips would attract the most stubborn of women. The midnight black of his robes accompanied by long raven hair gave off the notion of royalty and prestige. Again, the pale skin enhanced a youthfulness and beauty not often found in the current world, making him a martyr against old age and death.

But there was truly so much more. In Propheta's mind, for her vision hardly did him proper justice, she had never seen such an utterly beautiful man in her life. Surely an archetype of exquisiteness that even angels would find jealousy in.

Perhaps a full minute was spent simply drinking him in. And in the low light of candles circling the room, she failed to note that his eyes shined with the same tint of malice as Sulpicia's, but far more reserved and shielded.

"You haven't even said a word and you've already entranced her, Aro," came Sulpcia's chuckle, eyes regarding the seer closely.

"It seems I have," the man suddenly spoke, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Propheta jerked out of her euphoric study, instead, scanning the two men sitting on opposite sides of him who had also been in her vision, but did not play nearly a big enough role.

While their features were equally pale and equally handsome with luxurious hair and demanding jaws, she couldn't help but think that they held little appeal when in their counterpart's presence. And in this way, she determined subconsciously, that the man in the middle was the leader.

A silence lingered eerily in the room at her continued lack of speech, and as Propheta remembered her position, she unexpectedly felt as if the room held more than just those visible to her eyes.

Through the shadows clawed into the secretive stone walls, limbs would shift or eyes would search her before retreating back into the darkness. A murmur of a voice here, a near brush there. Parts of bodies becoming visible only for a split second.

Realizing that the room held far more persons in it than she was led to believe, seemed to make her situation all the more sinister.

"What is your name?"

The man from her vision...Aro she now could place, asked this question. And finally, Propheta recalled why she'd ventured to this palace in the first place.

"You may call me Propheta," she answered quietly, wishing her voice didn't waver from her anxiety.

"A prophet?" the man beside Aro, blonde and brooding, chided. "Splendid. Just what we need."

"Now, now, Caius," Aro lightly scolded, lips still set in an inquisitive smile, "shall we not hear her out?"

"As if she will be any different than the other ones," he muttered dismissively.

Instead of indulging the blonde, Aro turned to look down at the woman with a tilt of the head. "I am aware that Propheta is simply a title, my dear. A prophet if I am correct. Tell me your real name."

Impressed by his knowledge, Propheta nodded, still refusing to meet his eyes, but able to garner back some of the courage she'd left her home with.

"You must pardon me for the formal title. I have not been called by my born name since I was a child. I am Viola."

"A beautiful name indeed. And my wife tells me you wish to speak to one of us, having even walked tirelessly for days just to be here. Such determination deserves reward. Whomever it is you have sought out, you will have his complete attention."

Viola sucked in a deep breath, pushing away the hazy spell in the air begging her to forego her mission. Her thoughts weren't entirely with her at the moment and a devious side wanted nothing more than to indulge in watching Aro for the rest of her time there.

But a sudden image of Aston's yellowed eyes shutting for a final time, reawoke her motivation.

Tightening her jaw, Viola's eyes ascended to Aro's. It took all her will not to become side tracked by his features.

"If you are Aro, then you are indeed the man I wish to speak to," she proclaimed steadily. "You may not believe in the words of a woman who claims to carry knowledge of things to come, but regardless, I hope you will hear me out for the information I carry will greatly determine your future."

One of Aro's perfect eyebrows rose in curiosity, but Viola knew he was only indulging her.

"I have had a vision of you," she continued, unperturbed by the lack of faith. "And to prove my sincerity, I will divulge a piece of knowledge I learned about you."

"Do tell," he offered with the slightest of surprise in his tone.

Caius only shifted impatiently in his throne.

"You are not a mortal," she revealed. "Nor a human."

This time, both men sitting on each side of Aro, turned their eyes her way. Caius with a suspicious glare and the man she could only label as Marcus, with a detached interest.

Somewhere in the room, Sulpicia still watched her like a hawk, but Viola disregarded the woman's presence. She was here for Aro, not anyone else.

"My, that is...intriguing, and unexpected. If I am not a human, as you say, then pray tell, dearest, what could I possibly be?" Aro asked with the same light hearted smile.

Only now, Viola wasn't fooled. He may have carried a face that could melt a woman's heart, but she could tell the words were structured carefully. And that her knowledge was dangerous.

"To be honest, I do not know," Viola admitted, risking a step forward. "And for the most part, I do not wish to know. Then again, it is for the most part. While your origins fail to make themselves known to me, I am aware of one incredible miracle that God surely must have blessed you with. And if this miracle is able to be bargained, I will share with you not only your future, but the name of the woman in this future who will provide you with a love you have never experienced."

Through the thick silence, a low snarl emerged. Viola very well knew the owner of such a grotesque noise, but she ignored Aro's wife. Upon meeting her, the seer knew they would not remain on good terms for very long. Better for the moment that the false pretenses were dropped rather than later.

"To what miracle are you referring to?" Aro pressed in confusion, ignoring his wife's disapproval for the moment.

"Your blood," Viola answered as if she was speaking to a slow child. "It holds healing capabilities that has allowed you to live after death. It allows you immunity from old age, from deterioration, from...disease."

"That is impossible," Caius denied. "No being can conquer death."

Viola only stared at Aro knowingly, forgetting the unhealthy glow of his eyes. Her pale blue gaze practically announced that she knew there to be absolute truth in her words.

And at this conviction, Aro's own gaze shifted from indulgement into a faint surprise.

"Perhaps you are something...different," he mused thoughtfully, shifting forward in his throne.

"She knows nothing," the blonde quickly regarded, scanning her with mistrust.

Marcus stayed silent, but he did not once look away from her.

"Aro...dear, I think you've had your fun with this poor woman. Shan't we-."

"Your curiosity is piqued," Viola interrupted with realization sparkling in her eyes, finally feeling comfortable enough to lower her hood. "I assure you that what I see is truth. It may not be coated in promised happiness or prosperity, but I hardly think one expects this from a true prophet. We reflect the nature of this world, and often, that nature is far more ugly than we could ever anticipate. For once in my life, I have been able to track down someone from my visions. You have little idea of how much joy this brings me. I have watched deaths I had no chance of preventing. Lives ruined. For some reason, my visions have always held a particular attraction to tragedy. But not now. You, Aro, a being I have found by chance, beholds one of the few futures where tragedy is not an outcome. And I will be more than happy to tell you of what is to come. Patience is required, but I do not fear that is something you lack."

Her proclamation further silenced the room, and again, the barest sign of movement around her was caught out of the corner of her eyes.

Through it all, however, Viola only absorbed Aro's stare.

"I am to guess you require my blood in exchange for my...future?"

Viola nodded harshly, no longer able to detect what lay in Aro's voice. Nor his features. Quite suddenly, his wore an emotionless mask.

"A small feat, I should say for what is to come your way."

"You will no doubt sell the blood."

This nasty swipe came from Sulpicia.

"I hadn't even thought of that," Viola murmured in surprise, inclining her head briefly toward the outline of the woman. "I assure you my use for the blood is not for personal gain, although...it is personal."

"The plague," Aro deduced easily, scanning her. "You do not appear sickened by it."

"For reasons unknown to me, I've been spared by the illness even though I have come in contact with it. My son, Aston, however, is currently suffering for my good fortune. And I fear my eldest, Vici, will soon succumb to the same fate. I care not if you think I have selfish intentions for this blood. I should hope you only have to look upon me for conviction. I need this medicine for them or else they will die."

Caius scoffed, but to the room's surprise, Viola threw a glare at him, far more poisonous than even she anticipated. "You have had eternity to grow cold toward humanity. Do not dare try scolding me for compassion you have long ago abandoned."

The blonde physically restrained a reply only because Aro raised a cautious hand, that infuriating smile returning to his lips.

"I find myself amazed to agree with young Viola here, brother. We have long ago passed the threshold of wanting to save others from death. Who are we to reprimand a mother's love for her children?"

Even the mystique and command in his voice, emulated seduction, and Viola quickly had to shake off the tingling in her stomach or else she'd forget her thoughts altogether.

"Will you agree to my terms?" she asked, again, unable to read any of Aro's aristocratic features.

"Blood of my own in exchange for important information regarding my future?" Aro pondered, a pale finger tapping at his chin thoughtfully.

"Your own?" Sulpicia unexpectedly screeched, brows furrowing. "I acknowledge you are fond of playing your games, Aro, but offering something so precious as your own blood for false pretenses is a bit sadistic...even for you."

Viola met Sulpicia's scalding stare with a pensive, tight lipped smile, and whatever it was Sulpicia caught in the seer's eyes...well, she did not care for it one bit.

"I am his wife!" she exclaimed arrogantly, once flawless features morphing into pinched fury. "You claim a woman will give him love unlike he has ever felt in his life? Do not be misguided by stupidity. We have been united for over a millennia. I have provided him with everything he could ever want and will continue to. No amount of lies in your childish and sickened mind will ever take that away."

Strangely, Viola refrained from any anger or frustration herself, and she could tell after a moment, that this had been expected of her.

Instead, she ignored the woman and fought her eyes back to Aro.

"This remains to be your decision. I am bargaining for the lives of my children, yes. But I also wish to show you that a beautiful future exists should you say yes. And that this woman...I do not understand the culture she comes from, but she fascinates even me."

Aro's finger still tapped insistently at his jaw, and for the first time, Viola grew nervous.

While Aro never admitted to what he was, she knew already that he held great power and had been living for a period of time previously unmatched to any other. It would be so easy for him to shoo her away for the inconvenience. Desperately easy, in fact, especially since everyone in the room regarded her words as nothing more than absurdity.

The thought of coming back to Aston and Vici, empty handed, caused a paralyzing stab to impale her lungs, nearly depleting her of oxygen.

"Tell me a little bit of this future of mine," Aro finally announced, hands at his sides now. "I will make my decision after this."

Beside him, Caius rolled his eyes, but Marcus held the same level of interest Aro did.

Disembodied voices passed around her like a wave, and she didn't even need to see Sulpicia to know a vengeful glare was aimed her way.

"Whatever it is you are, I understand you have mates. Soul mates, in a sense," she began, eyes briefly closing as strands of her vision reappeared. "Although Sulpicia claims to have had you for over a millennia, in my heart and head, I know her not to be your mate. And I do not mean to make you sound cold in your decision, but it is my understanding that you never bothered to search for your mate? You took Sulpicia because she already adored you and this decision was easier for the plans you had."

When no one spoke after a few seconds, Viola snapped open her eyes.

Aro was leaning even further in his chair than he'd been moments ago, smile gone, but features pensive.

"You are correct, though I hardly think my decision to be a fault. What makes you think my darling wife does not provide me all of the love and fulfillment I crave, already? Who is not to say she is already my soul mate?"

The question momentarily confused Viola, so she redirected her gaze to the eyes studying her on Aro's left.

"I have insulted your wife this evening," Viola pointed out. "Yet, you have done nothing to prevent me from doing this. Your previous question was asked out of a malevolent fun, lacking the conviction that loved ones share. The mates that exist - the bonds shared in your world...they would never allow for such unhappiness. Mates will care for one another, defend one another, fight for each other, and love without boundaries. Existence is no longer seen without them. If you truly loved Sulpicia, I would not be so far into my words as I am now."

Another snarl ripped through the room, but Aro ignored it completely, eyes transfixed with a strange glint, on Viola.

"You seem convinced of this," he observed calmly.

"I am only referring to one of your own," she answered, eyes falling back to Marcus. "He knows what I speak of. I can tell just by looking at him that he knows each and every one of my words to be true."

She remained convinced that the haunted expression scurrying over Marcus's features, had been unintentional, but it supported her theory strongly.

Marcus had met his mate.

And from his appearance, also had lost her.

The man in question rapidly turned his head away, but Viola knew all the eyes in the room were set on him.

To save the man from facing their gazes, the seer spoke up once more.

"I have seen your mate, Aro. Your true mate. The mate you should have been waiting all these years for rather than binding yourself to a woman you do not even remotely love," Viola boldly spoke. "And she is...marvelous. A passion unmarked by even my own mother in her youth. Beauty a blessing from Venus herself. And such wit that could challenge scholars in the prime of their years. Of course I only have seen glimpses of her, but when she smiles in my head, the worries stored beneath the mask you wear, suddenly fall away."

She knew her words to be enormous, but now, longing sat within her own voice because she had indeed witnessed the first meeting of the two. And how instantly, it appeared as if they finally had a certainty in life, something that would not blow away in the taunting wind or ripped away by fickle death.

How joyous it was to finally witness a vision of happiness as opposed to death or loss or needless struggle against a cruel destiny.

To her disappointment, of course, not everyone in the room agreed.

"She is more pathetic than the other ones!" Caius exclaimed loudly, if not angrily. "Let me rid her personally, Aro."

"Let me rid her," Sulpicia pleaded, a sickening pleasure entering her formerly soothing voice. "How dare she come into our palace, insult us, then defile our love? Come Aro. For once tonight, see reason and what this woman really is. A disgusting fraud."

Viola detected the slightest trace of desperation at the end of her words, and with a quick glance at Aro, she could tell he'd noted it as well.

By now, the movement in the darkness of the room was far more apparent, even though everyone still kept to the shadows. Whispers just barely detectable to her ears, filled the room, and throughout it all, Aro listened patiently, his face void of any faltering emotion.

When he finally spoke, all the other the voices faded away.

"I take it there is more to your vision, dear?"

"Yes," Viola insisted, inhaling deeply so she could confidently relay her next words, "but I will not reveal them to you unless you agree to my previous offer."

"And what is this hidden information?" he continued, ignoring her attempt at negotiation.

Sighing, Viola closed her eyes again, willing the image to appear once more.

"I know...the year of her birth. A year that will require patience from you. I know you will first encounter her not even two months after her eighteenth birthday in a city not yet begun and seemingly composed of...metal? I also know, but cannot exactly pronounce...her full name."

The vision before her scattered into oblivion when Viola unexpectedly felt herself being yanked backwards by the hair, an arctic arm locking itself around her throat without mercy.

She bounced back into a firm, unyielding body that forced her to face forward while struggling to support herself in the uncomfortable arch of her back. One hand, again, snarled itself into her own mass of short, blonde and with a vicious tug, tightened the arm restricting the steady flow of oxygen.

Fear shot into Viola instantly, especially when she realized no one was doing anything to help her escape from Sulpicia's clutches.

"Aro," his wife demanded coolly, fingers tightening into a fist, pulling some hairs out by the roots while a strangled whimper fled Viola's lips, "let me have her, won't you? You know she speaks only of lies, as did the other ones."

"O-o-other ones?" Viola stuttered, choking against the brutal vice across her throat.

"Of course there have been other seers!" Caius mentioned, amused at her painful restraint. "All of them at one time or another have come to our palace, claiming they have an insight of our futures and that to turn them away would lead to death itself. Of course in return, all they need is a night's worth of food or perhaps a pretty pouch of golden coins or the very blood in our veins. If I saw to these matters myself, I would have you false prophets eradicated from this world. A waste of time and breath."

"B-but-."

"Surely you didn't think Aro would be blinded by such blatant lies!" Sulpicia screeched tauntingly, twisting the seer's head to the left so fast that a dangerous crack sounded through the room. And with a strength Viola could not fathom a woman to have. "You are another who seeks only our blood. A scum I cannot quite scrub away from this world. You are far younger than I and yet you have already mothered two bastard children you cannot even care for? How wretched of an existence you must live, telling your village of the "visions" in your head, almost believing them yourself. All the while, your sons lay ill in your home, ready to embrace death. But no...here is what I think. I think they burdened you and you needed a new life. So, you made up lies like the whore I know you are and presented them to us so you could escape your filthy, vile children!"

Tears were streaming out of Viola's eyes, blinding her to the men before her. A sob escaped, but she did not give in to the pain of the words. She alone knew why she had made the journey. And a wicked woman would not convince her otherwise.

So while the tears fell and her throat chose between inhaling much needed oxygen or emitting more sobs, Viola physically settled on fighting against Sulpicia's hold, attempting to twist, to pull, to push, to duck, and even to bite.

But the woman seemed to be made of marble, only laughing grotesquely in her ear before effectively ceasing all movements with another tightening of her fist, forcing actual strands out this time.

"Let me kill this liar for you, my husband," Sulpicia lovingly requested, sending him an alluring grin. "I know this is your wish."

"I'M NOT LYING!" Viola screamed through a hoarse voice, helpless not to defend herself as she tried to find Aro's eyes. "I see these visions in my head. I've seen them since I was a child! They have plagued me with fates I could never change. Please, I only came here to help you and save my sons! If you only agree, I will tell you everything about he-."

"If you speak another word, I will snap your neck and wear it as a crown," Suplicia darkly promised in her ear.

And that voice, lacking sympathy or life for that matter, not only amplified Viola's fear, but ushered in a new understanding.

Whatever it was in their blood that allowed them immortality...it also signified them as predators. Dangerous, menacing, and ungodly powerful.

"It appears I have my answer," Aro finally spoke, standing from his position.

Marcus and Caius remained seated, and in a terrifyingly clear moment, Viola could fill in the rest of her vision from where it got dark and uncertain.

They would slaughter her where she stood.

To her surprise, however, Marcus spoke up in a deep, slow voice.

"Only a touch is required to see if she speaks the truth, Aro."

A hidden meaning existed in these words, but for the life of her, Viola couldn't determine what they meant. All she knew was that in his own way, Marcus was attempting to save her life.

"Just because Didyme is dead does not mean you must drag Aro into your own misery!" Sulpicia spat at him.

These words silenced Marcus altogether, and with a frown, he turned away, his thoughts once more sealed off.

"That was cruel, even for you, dear," Aro mentioned, gazing at her.

"You call me cruel?" Sulpicia laughed mockingly, shaking Viola's form in the process. "You are the one who murdered her! Your own sister! I daresay I learned only from the best."

The atmosphere ignited with tension, those invisible eyes Viola could feel, watching Aro and Sulpicia with great concentration, all of them ignoring Marcus, more for his own sake.

Without warning, Sulpicia flung the seer to the ground, causing her knees to smash painfully into the stone as great gasps made their way from Viola's throat.

Above her, Sulpicia stalked in short steps over to her husband's form, features surrendering to sorrow and regret. Two elegant hands slipped over Aro's cheeks, and with a shake of a bowed head, Sulpicia sighed.

"I am sorry, husband. Those are words I...should not have said them. You have provided me with a life I feel at times, undeserving of. Please, forgive me for speaking as if I did not care for I assure you, I do. You have made the decisions you have to be here at this time and there is nothing more I could love you for than that."

Viola trembled on the floor, trying to fend of the painful throbbing in both knees as she listened in hopelessly to the conversation above. A conversation lacking so much in honest regret that it briefly made her queasy.

And this queasiness quickly transformed into out right nausea as a familiar tingle ensnared her. A tingle beginning in her chest before shooting up into her brain where it felt as if it were blocking out everything around her in a muted gray, casting instead, different scenery altogether.

On the cold, stony floors of Volterra, Viola shuddered weakly as a vision stormed through her head, causing her eyelids to shuffle back and forth like a haywire metronome.

Seconds later when the vision had all but disappeared, the seer cranked open her eyes, a new wave of tears ready to be shed.

"What have you seen?"

That voice, once enamoring and fascinating, now only sent eternal shivers through Viola's form. But to maintain some shred of dignity, she did answer.

"You have made up your mind. Because of this, your future has just changed. As has the woman's," Viola whispered, blinking through the sting of tears as an agonizing pain developed in her chest. "Oh, Aro...you have changed everything. So very much for the worst. And here I thought for once, I could help someone."

More tears released themselves, and Viola let them fall, the newest vision still branded firmly in her mind.

No one responded to this, but Sulpicia did pull Aro toward her trembling form.

"Shall we put her out of her misery?" she suggested. "Better yet, I smell no sickness in her blood. You know how those humans that are, carry a particularly disagreeable taste. It will be nice to taste something healthy for once."

Aro stared down at the woman, eyes focusing in on the open scrape on her knee she'd acquired from being pushed to the floor.

"Yes, a healthy dinner will be in order."

Before Viola could blink, Aro was bent over her, positioned on one knee, eyes scurrying inhumanly fast over her.

"I must thank you for providing such an entertaining evening for myself, my dear. You almost intrigued me enough to want to-," he stopped his hand before touching her forehead, instead, removing a stray strand "Alas, my wife is right. It would be foolish to pass your blood up. It is so very rare we are able to have a meal that is not tainted by this plague. One I hope does not last too much longer or else we may have to began hunting once more. And I do so hate to come home dirty."

A few low laughs scattered around the room, but Viola only gazed at Aro with a small smile. Gone were the tears, or the fear, or the realization that she was staring the most beautiful angel of death in the face.

"You will pay with unknown grief in centuries to come, for your laziness, cruelty and impatience. I only regret to inform you...that so will your mate."

"I am his mate!" Sulpicia loudly screamed. "I am-."

As the woman continued screaming, Viola studied Aro, tuning out the room until she literally felt as if they were the only two in it.

"Fret not, Aro," she all but whispered light heartedly, witnessing his hunger steadily rise, "you will meet another seer in your lifetime. By then, you will be more convinced of our talents. Fortunately, she too will elude you. Much like your mate whose heart will never be open again, leaving you to drown in a loneliness you alone are responsible for."

She couldn't tell if the words had any effect on the man because all he did was stare back down at her without emotion. But Viola knew with bittersweet realization, that those were the last words she wanted to leave her mouth before death.

So, when Caius's patience snapped and he too sped to Aro's side, gazing down at her with a repulsive lust, Viola knew she would get her wish.

The first horrendous stab had been made into a vein throbbing erratically in her neck, torn open by two unnaturally sharp teeth. The pain quickly outgrew that of giving birth to both her sons.

Joining Aro was Caius who snapped open her wrist and greedily sucked up the crimson awaiting him beneath the skin.

After a frighteningly short time, Aro consumed enough blood to cause a truly remarkable event - her soul detaching from her body, ceasing the hellish pain she'd been mercilessly experiencing.

More figures revealed themselves from the shadows of the room, eager to indulge in an unsickened meal while Sulpicia only stood above her body, grinning triumphantly as one hand played with Aro's hair at the nape of his neck.

Viola's last thoughts before disappearing were how excruciating dying was without someone there to hold you. And that hopefully when death found her sons, they'd at least have each other.

In my story, Marcus is aware Aro killed Didyme. Also, Sulpicia is a manipulative bitch. Which is fun to write, is it not? And in Viola's last words to Aro, she was referring to Alice as the seer who'd elude him. Let me know your thoughts in a review!