A/N: Quick, unbetaed update, only because I decided to get things moving instead of trying to perfect the narrative plot but leaving the rest of the story unwritten for months on end. Writing this story will be easier this way.

And, sweetheart, thanks for waiting. Dedicated to you with lots of love.

Reveri xx

»»-- ❈ --««

Chapter XV: Deny, Deny, Deny

ITALY. . .

Much to Caius' surprise, lively sounds of laughter and conversation could be heard across the abandoned passageways from where he stood at the perimeter of the fortress gardens. Apprehensive, he pursued the source of the commotion and led himself to the doorways of castle tower's neglected art studio. What he found darkened his gaze.

"That is not what I look like!" Altheia laughed boisterously as Marcus turned his canvas to show her his masterpiece in-the-making.

"Yes, actually, you do," Marcus insisted with a straight face, sparing another glance at the woman from where she had been postured safely on the rustic window's inner ledge. Altheia fidgeted with the flimsy skirt of her canary yellow day dress, only to resume her frozen pose at Marcus' sharp, instructing glare. Fresh blooms of pink roses and white gardenias hung from their crawling, vine-like stems, twisting along the black iron framing of the window, adorning Altheia's form with blossoms and sunlight. Small buds and green leaves littered along the mosaic glass, providing dainty color contrast amidst the looming shadow coming from within the art hall.

On Marcus' canvas, the exact artistic render of wonder, nature, and loveliness before him - except Altheia had been replaced completely with the image of a white Siberian kitten adorned with yellow ribbons.

"I am not a kitty cat," Altheia whined. "Are you sure you're the best artist in this house?"

Marcus huffed. "Please. Do you think my brothers could do any better?"

Caius' eyes nearly rolled into his head. Definitely.

After a minute of hearing paintbrushes gliding and masterfully blending hues on the painting tarp, Marcus twisted the canvas around again. This time, a stack of thick vintage books had been painted next to the kitten

With a clearing of his throat and a stoic flourish, he signed the artpiece.

"I dub this one," the vampire announced, "'The Volturi Pet.'"

Altheia quickly hopped off from where she had been posed and made her way next to the brunet, observing the final output with a thoughtful, appraising hum.

"The yellow bows do make the cat look absurdly adorable," she finally admitted under her breath. Marcus tried to suppress his mirth. "Do I get to keep this depiction of me?"

A sad, pretentious frown crept onto Marcus' mouth as he shook his head. "I'm afraid it'll cost you dearly," he said, his voice grave.

"I see." Altheia matched his expression with faux melancholy. "How much, signore?"

"Three kisses," Marcus replied without missing a beat. Altheia burst into laughter again.

The third time Altheia's lips met Marcus', Caius decided to make his presence known. With the huge studio doors swinging open, the brunette jumped away from Marcus in surprise, and his brother turned to level him with an exasperated look.

Caius ignored him.

Walking into the hall with a brow arched at Altheia, "So you've copied his Bond Sight as well? You couldn't keep your hands to yourself, I imagine." Caius bit out.

The coven scholar's cheeks flooded with red. Trailing her gaze to the floor, "Ah, actually, I... didn't. For some reason, I'm not, er... copying Marcus at all. And, although I can't hear anyone anymore, Aro can still read me."

Altheia took Marcus' hand and concentrated her gaze on him. She struggled for a full minute before shaking her head to indicate the lack of bond sight and tactile telepathy.

"We tried and tried, but I couldn't copy Renata's, or Chelsea's, or even any of the other guards' nearby. Now Aro thinks my... ability... might have some sort of limit."

"Like?"

Altheia frowned. "I don't know."

Caius snorted. "Well, how odd that must feel for you."

Altheia fought the urge to stick her tongue out. "I'm taking that as a compliment, primum sanguisuga."

The first vampire to exist only stared at her, immensely unimpressed.

Suddenly, Marcus rose from his armchair. "I remember - I have duties to attend to."

Caius arched a brow. "Do you."

Altheia's eyes widened in alarm. "D-Do you?" She held onto Marcus' wrist. "I can help! I'm very helpful."

Marcus easily removed her grip, his smile saint-like. "I could use some assistance in beheading those troublesome Pacific nomads..."

Altheia's arms dropped to her sides and she slumped away from him. "...never mind..." she mumbled.

"Then it's decided. Caius will take over my shift at, ah, teaching the coven scholar for the rest of the week." Altheia winced. "I will inform Aro myself. He'll ensure your... learning... session... here won't be disturbed." Marcus said, smug.

Too smug, in fact, that Altheia wanted to wipe the smug off his face with her fist.

At her expression, Marcus' delight only worsened by the second, and he patted her shoulder cheerfully before he left.

With Marcus gone, silence ensued, and Altheia decided to concentrate her attention on the tiles of the floor. They were beige. And glossy. And very, very interesting. She could definitely spend the rest of the day staring at its marbled glory instead doing of anything else. Anything else at all.

Alas, Satan had other plans.

Begrudgingly, Altheia lifted her eyes and met Caius' gaze. She blanched at the haughty smirk on his face.

"What shall I have you do, hmm, scholar?" he mused aloud. "Surely you'd prefer a task requiring the archives."

Altheia whimpered. "Please don't give me another riddle." She sounded genuinely desperate. "I was just starting to like it here. Please. Your riddles make me insane."

Caius responded with another condescending hum. He lifted a single finger and beckoned her twice, gesturing for her to follow after him as he strode to the exit.

"I can beg better!" Altheia pleaded out after him. She could only imagine how comical she looked to the castle attendants as she chased after him through the hallways and connecting chambers of the castle.

"...I'll even bargain library privileges! Just don't make it another riddle, or I swear to god..."

From the path that Caius had taken, it seemed they were heading to his personal wing. Caius stopped abruptly from his fast-paced walking and Altheia smacked right into the center of his back, crying out as she clutched onto her forehead in abject pain. She looked up and found the devil's wicked gaze bearing down at her.

"Gattina, you can keep begging," Caius' smile was the worst omen she'd seen her entire life. "But surely by now you know that no god can help you?"

A small whine. "Caius..."

"No." Caius answered flatly and gestured to the door next to them. "Step inside."

Altheia let out a defeated sigh. With a nervous chew of her bottom lip, the scholar strode forward and flattened two palms on the antique doors to push them open. She took careful steps as she headed into the chamber, with the light-haired monarch shortly following, and once her vision adjusted to the dim torchlight of the room, her jaw dropped.

Frames upon frames of paintings... Freehand charcoal sketches and life-like portraits... Sculptures and body models made from chalk, wood, plaster, marble... Multiple centuries' worth of devoted artwork and craftsmanship... Unparalleled... Breathtaking... Flawless.

"All for you to clean, catalogue, and pack for immediate shipment to Palazzo Viti. Sulpicia insisted on displaying these in her museum's new wing, though I for one see it unreasonable to. As it is, artists and academics will only flock from all over the world to pester her staff about their cryptic origins..."

Altheia's mouth thinned as Caius meandered on, briefly gesturing to his grander pieces.

"...and as you go through them, you will notice the evolution of art styles, materials and shaping techniques." he spoke airily. "Shall I assist you in-"

"No." Altheia interrupted. Caius blinked, surprised at her dismissal. "No. I can do this on my own."

Caius quelled as he registered the unusual apathy on the scholar's face. "Well." he cleared his throat. "Should... you decide otherwise... I will be in my quarters."

Altheia didn't even glance at him. After her hands accepted the catalogue ledger he'd offered, she turned away from him and turned her entire attention to working on his private collection.

Confused, Caius stared at her back for some minutes, loitering awkwardly by the door, until he finally yielded to her wishes and decided to leave the scholar to appreciate her art lessons alone.

As the sound of Caius' steps faded from the hallways, Altheia's shoulders started to shake.

Letting her knees buckle to the floor, she bowed her head and pinched her eyes shut. The day had started so well, Altheia rued mentally. She had just begun to remember how safe she felt in the walls of the Volterra, how beautiful and comforting it was to feel cherished... To be protected. To belong in a family.

Still, a tear found its way to the cobblestone floor. Then another. And another.

"I can do this on my own." she repeated to herself. "I can do this."

Altheia gathered all her strength and pushed herself up from the floor.

To be wholeheartedly honest, Marcus' talent for art proved modest in comparison to Caius' aptitude. There was no competition between the two in this matter. Marcus' works were depictive, but Caius' pieces were beyond masterful. Beyond life and mimicry and depth.

In his paintings, colors weren't just colors - they transported the audience to a different time, a different place, enabled them to feel the artist's exact emotion for his subject - and each portrayal drew her in.

There was no room for flaw or error - every stroke beautiful... captivating... Real.

Inspired.

In love.

Hurt settled into Altheia's chest as she began to study each and every perfect piece that filled the room - each and every piece that Caius had made of his previous wife, Athenodora.

»»-- ❈ --««

COAST OF KLUANE. . .

Intuitively, Mele knows to keep her distance. She understands that her mistress is running on sharp-edged instinct.

And truly, Sulpicia Viti, her mistress... She is not herself. She is shattered beyond Mele's own capacity to empathize. Frantic is not a word Mele would have ever thought to associate with Sulpicia - the noble, immortal heiress of Italy - as with the word vicious, and yet... there she was.

Impossibly frantic. Impossibly vicious.

Mele had to be very careful.

So she stays a couple hundred kilometers ahead. She has assigned herself to scrying the rough wilderness - expertly ensuring their snow-ridden route from territory to territory, clearing it from beasts and wayward humans alike. She guides her charge from afar, through the potential dangers of the unknown, just as she had been trained by her superiors.

Mele had sworn to protect Sulpicia Viti a millenia ago. To serve her and fulfill her wishes until she ceased to exist. Mele's service would not waver. Not even slightly when they'd left their previous coven, not even now when Sulpicia was at the brink of true perdition.

Of losing her mate.

Mele guides her mistress further and farther away from what was left of the charred Washington police station. Away from the gray ashes and black smoke that rose into the hazy skies.

Briefly, Mele wonders if she should have told any of the Cullens what had occurred. But too many things had happened, all at the same time, too many things to predict and control, and she supposes Alice, with her powerful gift, somehow, must know.

There was no other choice.

»»-- ❈ --««

WASHINGTON. . .

"Charlie...? Gone?" Bella echoes incredulously. "No... He can't be. Victoria - she couldn't have! Alice's visions would have seen it as soon as-"

"Alice did see it. None of us could get there in time. I'm sorry." Rosalie whispered. "I'm so sorry, Bella. There's nothing... no one left."

Bella turned desperately towards Alice. The psychic only shook her head sadly and couldn't even look at her straight in the eye. Bella's stomach churned dangerously.

"We have to go." Alice muttered with her gaze pinned to the snow. "Responders will arrive soon."

"We'll clear up. Go." Sam instructs. "We'll take care of it here."

Bella scowls and her legs break into a run towards the wreckage. She snapped at them, "You weren't looking hard enough! Charlie can't be gone-"

Had I been stronger, wiser...

"- Let me go! - Goddamnit, let me go! -"

Bella squirms against the vampire who effortlessly lifts her from the ground and secures her over his shoulder.

"Let go of me, Alec! Let go of me!"

Alec's expression is pained, and he mutters consoling words into her ear, but Bella can't really hear anything except for the grieving thoughts inside in her head.

Had I been stronger, wiser...

Bella couldn't feel anything. Bella couldn't see anything. This couldn't be real. None of this was real. All these rubbles and fume... They weren't true.

Charlie couldn't be gone.

"Please! Let me go! My father is somewhere in there, I have to - Please! Please!" She's screaming her voice hoarse but Alec only carries her father away. The distance grows beyond her reach and horrible chains settle around her heart. "Alec! Please!"

None of this would have happened.

The pounding of her fists is nothing to Alec. Still, she thrashes in his hold, wringing her limbs wildly in great effort to escape.

Alec doesn't let her go. He keeps telling her it's futile. He's gone, Bella. He's gone. We have to go.

Alec keeps offering empty words of comfort, but all she feels is loss and remorse.

None of this would have happened.

»»-- ❈ --««

Chapter Epilogue

Charlie can feel everything.

The open wounds on his face... The grave, bleeding punctures through his limbs... His ribs, broken inside him... The cold, seeping into his charred skin.

Somehow, through the agony, he also feels a trace of comfort. He hears the call of an angel lulling him with promises of love, weeping for him, pleading.

He feels the rush of wind around him. The dryness of his throat. The reverberation of torrents and seas.

"You did well, Charlie. You can rest. Take all the time you need." He can barely hear her voice through the physical ache. "But you'll still see the world with me, won't you? Tell me you will. I'm still here. You have to stay."

A broken sob. "Charlie, please... No more burdens, no more sacrifices. Just stay. Stay. I haven't even had the chance to meet you yet. You can't say goodbye. I need you."

Charlie didn't want to promise the angel anything, but... he knew what it was like to be abandoned. Over and over and over. And even after all the times it had been done to him, for all sorts of reasons... He couldn't do it. Even just the blurry view of her grief-stricken face hurt him, down to the pits of his loveless soul.

But the thought of having someone who had been waiting for him the entire time... Lifetimes and lifetimes apart... Of what it felt like now, to be the one someone needed to stay...

If this was what it felt to be wanted, he craved and relished in every single bit.

So, despite his ache, despite the memories of desertion and sacrifices that once took hold of him, Charlie endured. He basked in the angel's hushed promises of forever.

With a satisfied smile, Charlie allowed the venom coursing through his bloodstream to fill him with peace.

*Translations for this chapter:

primum sanguisuga - Latin for 'first bloodsucker.' A throwback to Caius' first task for Altheia!

gattina - Italian for 'kitten'

Version 25 Jun 2021.