I cannot find the words to express my utmost gratitude to those who reviewed (and professed their love for me hahaha) the past chapter. All the hair-pulling and head banging from all the re-writing and re-drafting of Chapter VII almost had me discontinuing this story, but because I could not disappoint you all, so, here it is.

It's so difficult to manage so many characters with intricate histories. In writing AIV, believe me, I'm treading the unknown just as much as Altheia is. I'd also love to dedicate this chapter to LifeLoveLoki, who inspired me further after I read the latest developments of her latest work, Penance, another Kings/OC fic. Please give her works some love and attention.

As always, with all my love, Reveri.

Chapter VII: Ancient Men

THE WEST WING DORMITORIES, VOLTERRA CASTLE. . .

Bella Swan pulls herself awake from another nightmare, finding her right hand clutched protectively around her throat. She drops her hand to calm her racing heart and takes deep breaths before wiping away the lines of sweat framing her face.

The antique clock on her dresser tells her it is well past ten in the morning. It's Sunday, she realizes as she dresses herself for the day. Edward would have left in the night to hunt and return later in the evening. It's the first of May.

She finds her bearings easily enough after that. She hurriedly makes her way to the direction of Altheia's room and notices that the trays of food she had placed outside her door were no longer there. She knocks twice before peering inside, only to find the room unoccupied.

She makes her way down to the kitchens and sees Altheia Beneventi for the first time in three days, brooding over a cup of coffee. Their eyes meet, and Altheia offers her a weary smile, calling her over with some coffee and toast. Bella decides to postpone the interrogation as she eats her breakfast.

The minutes pass by, and it is Altheia who decides to speak first.

"Where's Edward?"

Siiip. "Hunting. Said he'll be back tonight."

"Oh. Right. Sunday." A small pause. "That's good."

Bella agrees absentmindedly, taking another sip from her coffee. She doesn't know what exactly it is she's feeling, but her chest feels tight. She munches on her sandwich, eyeing Altheia as she rose from her seat to do the dishes.

"You're okay, right?" With Altheia's back turned away from her, she finally finds the courage to ask. "I'm free today if you need help with anything..."

Altheia's shoulders tense for a second before she continues rinsing. "I'll be fine, Bella. You don't need to worry about me. Did you sleep well?"

"Oh, just the usual. Nightmares." Bella grimaces and scratches at her wrist absentmindedly.

"What a pair of damsels," Altheia says fondly as she finishes putting the dishes away. She turns to face Bella, leaning against the kitchen counter. "What are your plans for today?"

"After breakfast? Do my laundry, maybe read a book, sleep in... Endless possibilities." Bella says as she stretches her arms above her head. "You look like you have big plans today," she observed. The twenty-eight-year-old is clad in a periwinkle dress, her russet hair cascading in soft waves past her shoulders.

"Not really," the brunette laughs, playing with the straps of her dress. "I just thought it would be nice to feel like an actual person today. For a change."

"But we liked you better as the resident squirrel of the library?" Bella laughs at the faux affronted face her friend made. "On that note, Demetri would not stop bothering me at work about when you'd be back. I think he was starting to feel lonely."

A warm, lovely feeling crept up in Altheia. "Did he now?"

"If only you'd seen his face yesterday whe—"

"Well thanks, Bella," Demetri's voice drawled in dryly, startling the women as they turned to the direction of his voice. He was leaning against the kitchen doorway. "Ladies. Buongiorno."

"I have a little feeling, signore," Altheia bats her eyelashes mischievously at the kingsguard. "That you are here for me."

Demetri groans. "Forget it, will you?"

Bella stifles her laugh, a knowing smirk pulling the edge of her lip. "Why are you here then?"

"Master Aro requests your presence, Beneventi," Demetri says with a serious glare in Altheia's direction. The brunette laughs and raises her hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay, I'm going!"

"He called us ladies," Bella said pointedly to her friend, snorting unabashedly as she made her way out of the kitchen first, leaving the two to follow her exit. "Just because you're wearing a dress!"

Demetri shoots another glare at the brunette beside him before she can say anything else. "Not. Another. Word."

Altheia presses her thumb and index fingers in front of her lip, mimicking a zipping motion. She throws up her palms again in mock innocence, but the mirth dancing behind her eyes is unmistakable. Bella throws a sly smile in Demetri's way when they part, eager to leave the two as she headed to the direction of the laundry area.

Demetri rolls his eyes at their antics but can't help to feel relieved.

It's an important day, after all. He will take all the reassurance he needs.

»»—- ❈ —-««

"Come in," Aro's voice calls out through the double doors even before Demetri could rap his knuckles against them. It was Altheia that stepped into the study first while Demetri trailed behind to close the doors and stand guard at the side.

Altheia follows the sound of Aro's voice to find him standing in the darker portion of his office, where tall shelves filled with books and bejeweled ornaments were displayed. Previously, she had scoured the spaces of the north wing in search of plaques, but she didn't have much time to scrutinize its interiors. It was not her first time here, but... Aro didn't need to know that.

The Volturi monarch was dressed in a dark dress shirt rolled up to his sleeves and black slacks, a folded cloak hanging from his arm. His back was turned to her as he flitted through numerous titles.

"Hello, Aro." Altheia greeted carefully. "You called for me?"

Altheia saw him pause for a moment, lips quirking upward as she spoke. As he retrieved a leather journal from the middle glass shelf, he tells her, "I understand that today marks your first month in Volterra."

Altheia nods. "Yes, it does. I've settled in well."

When Aro finally faces her, she gives him a nervous smile and forces her gaze not to linger on his face — his eyes were an unusually dark, deep black. "Please, sit." He instructs, gesturing to the navy settee in the middle of the room. He sits across from her on a leather armchair. "I also understand that today marks your deadline for Caius' task."

Altheia winced at that. "...yes."

"And how far have you come to answering his question?" Aro raises a brow at her, a telling smirk on his face. "Frankly speaking," Aro leaned forward, resting his chin atop interlocked knuckles. "You spent most of your days in the library. The answers sought from you are not found there."

"My answers didn't come from any book," Altheia huffed. If I'd known that earlier, I wouldn't have wasted so much time with the catalogue, she thought irritably. "Are you asking me this because you think I'll get it wrong and Caius will have to kill me later?" she tries to ask casually.

"Fret not. If so, I will ensure your blood is not wasted." Aro laughed at her sulky response. How adorable. "But you do not seem so concerned. Why is that?"

Altheia chuckled breathily, leaning back onto the sofa. "Aro, just two months ago I found out that vampires were real and living in southwest Florence because I met an American tourist in-flight and decided to follow her into the city's sewage system. After that, against my better judgment, I accepted your offer and chose to stay in a castle full of vampires because a post-doctorate in Naples would have been too simple." She laughed again. "Lately I've found out that I'm not exactly the queen of normal reactions."

"No, not at all," Aro agreed easily. He chuckles before handing her the leather journal he had retrieved from the glass shelf earlier. "For you."

The scholar flicks through the thick pages of the journal with her thumb, before tilting her head at the king in front of her. "It's empty."

"It's for your task," Aro explains. "I expect it would be easier for you to read your answers to us instead of reciting them from memory."

"Oh! You mean I should write all my translations here?" At his nod, Altheia purses her lips. "I'll have to get my notes. I left them all in my room..." she trails off, standing to leave. Aro shakes his head before sending Demetri to the west wing to retrieve her notes instead. He tells her to make use of the broad desk next to them for the succeeding hours. "You want me to write my translations here? Signore, this is obviously your private space." Altheia gaped at him. "I can just go—"

He leveled her with a menacing look as he rose from the armchair, his height imposing on her smaller frame. "You do not have the luxury of time, merendina. Upon my return I will expect you to have collated your transcriptions. Unless, of course, you do not care for your neck."

She stepped away from him with narrowed eyes. Violent man. "Fine!"

Altheia makes her way to the desk petulantly. From the corner of his eye, Aro watches her uncap a fountain pen and hears the pen begin to glide seamlessly on textured paper. Satisfied that she had obeyed him, he draped his cloak over his shoulders and stepped out of his office. Aro bites the inside of his cheek to stifle a chuckle when his ears pick up the scholar grumbling under her breath.

"...the nerve... call me merendina... from now on... polpetto in my eyes..."

His feet take him to the familiar path leading to the throne room. He can amuse himself later. For now, if intensifying burning in his throat were any indication, a feast awaited him beyond those doors.

»»—- ❈ —-««

His student hadn't even noticed his return until four hours had passed. Engrossed in the translation of Latin scripture, Altheia paid little attention to her surroundings and remained oblivious to Aro's presence as she worked. Aro, at the very least, could appreciate the unflinching diligence of his new student. He passed the time by shamelessly observing her from his armchair, red eyes tracing the expressions her face would make. He found that his student would mouth the verses as she wrote, that her face would scrunch when faced with confusing lines, that she would nod to herself habitually, and that a small, satisfied smile would grace her lips when she would move to the next page for translation. After some time, he turns away and transfers to the navy settee. He closes his gaze, welcoming the soft lull of her working as he laid there, hands clasped above his stomach. Finally, his eyes snap open when he hears the scholar make a pleased noise from the back of her throat as she lifted the journal to her eye-level, a proud grin visible as she inspected the pages of her work.

"Finally done?" he drawled languidly. Altheia startles, dropping the journal to the desk with a soft thud. She gawks at him. "Do you know that you talk to yourself when you work?"

"How long have you been there!" It takes her some time to recover, and he smirks at her blushing face and the sound of her racing heart. "Wait, no. How long has it been...?"

"It is already afternoon, merendina. You've taken your time." He murmurs, closing his eyes again, not moving from his position on the settee. He can hear the soft rustling of papers and re-capping of pens as she re-organized his desk, before hearing her feet thud softly across the carpet as she transferred to the armchair across him. She cleared her throat to signal that she was ready to read to him. "Before we proceed to your deplorable rendition of hallowed verses... Tell me. What have you learned about my coven?"

The query takes her off guard. "...uh? You mean, about the Volturi?"

He chuckles under his breath at her inarticulate response. After a moment, he hears her exhale softly. He opens his eyes to gaze at her again. She sat across him, a pensive look on her face as she thought through it.

"Well... I've learned enough to believe that the founding members of the Volturi are ancient. Ancient. They were initially nomadic, as Didyme recounted in her journal once, but that was very long ago, and that's because most civilizations started around 8th century BC, so there wasn't really anywhere to inculcate themselves amongst human society without suspicion." The scholar's gaze trailed on the ceiling as she spoke.

"Ancient," Aro echoed with a hum. "How ancient? Barbaric? Primeval? Medieval?"

She rolled her eyes at him, unimpressed with the vague terminology. "If I were to rely on the hybrid Dispilio-cuneiform inscription on the library doors... maybe 20th century BC? I have no way of knowing for sure. Other notable works in the library can be cross-referenced to later alphabetic forms. Some of the journals I found were versed in the transitional Phoenician-Chalcidan alphabet, which dates very differently at 8th century BC or so..." Altheia surprised him with an incredulous laugh. "So yes. This leads me to think that while the founding members of the Volturi are older than the oldest script known to the history of man, not all of them are. The expansion of the coven happened much later on, when human civilizations grew larger and allowed diversity. The convergence of different cultures and populations probably aided the coven to hide in plain sigh: within the city itself."

Aro doesn't reply and the silence consumes them, making Altheia pull her gaze from the ceiling back to him uneasily.

"This is the part where you tell me I'm crazy. That my assessment is wrong," Altheia says quietly. "Because if you tell me I'm right and you're old enough to be God, I will start praying and — oh dio, when did I last go to church..." the worry in her voice is genuine.

Her quip startles him, beckoning deep, rich laughter from the pits of his stomach. Truly an amusing woman. He pushes himself upright as he replies, "My dear, God is for another time and a different teacher."

The woman across him gasped, brown eyes wide with alarm. "So you are, at the very least, three thousand years old?"

"An ancient Greek man," Aro finds himself saying as his laughter subsided, slighted at her phrasing. "Never tells his true age."

The sound that left his student's mouth was a cross between a horrified squeal and amazement. He rolled his eyes at her but couldn't help the amused grin pulling at his lips.

Altheia leaned into the soft plush of the armchair as she calmed herself. "Oh Aro, this just isn't fair... The more I learn about the coven, the more I cannot disagree with Caius." He tilts his head slightly at her solemn tone. She exhales sharply. "You know. I... I loathed him because he told me I was a waste of time. I wanted to prove him wrong, but really, in the face of a hundred thousand years of history and gifted immortality, what am I but a nobody? He was right. Even if I can answer his question, he will still be right."

Altheia was taken aback by how the vampire quickly dismissed it as an insecurity of hers with a careless wave of his hand.

"What truly escapes me about you, dearest Altheia, is how you are very, truly, and completely human. At every chance, your mind tells you to run. Your heart tells you to give in. And yet here you are, brave little girl, across from me, amidst of the world of vampires, holding the answers to our immortal life, simply because we asked you a question." Aro lets out a rueful, disbelieving laugh. When his dark, piercing gaze meets hers, Altheia can feel her world spinning to a stop. "What I can say is that meeting you has reminded me of my own insignificance. If you have been deluded to believing you are a waste of time, perhaps it is a testament to your humanity and my brother's inferior understanding thereof."

To this, Altheia was left speechless. It was like she had lost her voice. His words washed over her like a tidal wave, storm after storm, leaving her mind a blank slate in the aftermath. Aro stared at her now, ruby eyes sharp and keeping, trained on any response she would make.

Run, brave little girl, Aro thought as he gazed at his student. Before I want more than your blood.

"Aro..." His name was barely a whisper.

"Now, read to me." Aro ordered authoritatively, laying down onto the settee again, bringing the conversation to an end. His eyes were closed, and his hands were clasped, resting atop his stomach. "Go on. Waste my time, Altheia Beneventi," the monarch purred.

Aro Volturi does not need to look at his precious student to know that the avalanche of his words created a ripe blush to spread across her skin like wildfire. Brave girl. The rapid thud of the heart in her chest assured him, but it was the intertwined scent of blood and arousal that brought a knowing smirk on his face.

Venom pooled in his mouth. Delicious.

»»—- ❈ —-««

Aro Volturi is a dangerous man. The scholar thinks as she struggles to compose herself. She almost chokes on her own thoughts when her mind responds: You like a little danger.

»»—- ❈ —-««

Altheia takes deep, calming breaths before delving into her task. When she begins to read to the millennia-old vampire, her voice is reliable again. The Latin is familiar on her tongue, almost like second skin, and she knows she has surprised him once again with her command of the language.

" The first vampire resides in this castle. But before he was the first vampire, he was a simple man named Cain. He was human, just like each vampire born after him, rising from pulled flesh and fragile bones.

" In his human life, Cain was born to a clan dwelling in the high mountains. Their world was cold and draped with ice and snow, sierras spanning farther than the eyes could see, white sunlight blanketing the terrain. His clan ruled the nothingness and survived by grit and sheer strength, overpowering arctic beasts with sharp spears and precise arrows. They would dress themselves with the fur of their prey, bear coats providing the warmth on their backs, and carcass skullheads draped like helmets to the warriors. Life was survival, and survival was killing. The polar mountains were unforgiving. This was their way of life.

" As he grew, Cain was taught the duties of man in the tribe: to learn the ways of the wilderness, to kill and prepare the meat for eating, to harness metal and wood for weaponry, and most importantly, to be steadfast in defending the clan from the monsters after dark. Elders would ingrain these duties to their successors, and their harsh life ensured that they would never forget.