A/N: you guys, sorry, this is all i got for now. feeling down about it. writer's block sucks.

Chapter XVI: Essence

"There you are."

Altheia paused. Her hand hovering over the spine of the catalogue she'd just shelved, her gaze turned to the direction of the library entryway and landed on the atypical image of her old mentor.

The last she'd seen of him was when she'd handed over her resignation letter from her teaching post at the academe – barely a couple weeks fresh from losing her father, the only anchor that kept her in Campania ashore. She'd said her goodbyes to him over a cup of untouched coffee and a promise to come back when her adventures were done – safe and sound.

Three years. Three whole years away from everything she knew. Now, she had returned. Safe, sound; and yet there was not an ounce of her that felt the same. And yet there he was, across her – a remnant from what felt like time so long ago. Still so constant. So unchanged.

For a stretch of seconds they just stared. Stood.

And then Altheia's lips broke into a wide smile. "Amun!"

The scholar hastily placed the remaining stack of tomes to be sorted aside and headed to the man with an excited shuffle of her feet. Her arms wrapped around Amun's torso in cordial embrace; and Amun was relieved to find no difference in the disposition of his former student towards him, despite the newfound knowledge of his being a...

"Sly dog," Altheia kidded him with light laughter. "I treated you like a nonno and you could lift a tow truck all this time?"

As though he was unaffected by the jab at his age, Amun returned the firmness of her embrace. While his wrinkled facial features and ash white hair coloring did work to his advantage in blending in with the mortal crowd – as a serial pretender supposedly fifty-three years of age – the strength under his feeble appearance undoubtedly surpassed any mortal's a thousand times. There was no need to prove himself in the matter.

"Has travelling diminished your manners?" he sniped instead with a roll of his eyes. After he surveyed the woman from head to toe, "You... have transformed."

Altheia's head tilted. "Oh, I'm still human."

"That's not it."

"No?"

Amun could still remember the state at which his former student departed from Campania. How, from a bright-eyed educator, he'd feared that a daughter's grief would eat her entirely and turn his only mortal mentee into a worthless carcass of emotional rot. Eventually he found confidence in the letters and postcards Altheia sent from her travels, though as sparse as they came. From single-sentence greetings to page-long correspondences, gradually, his bright-eyed Altheia Abrielle returned.

Academically, spiritually, philosophically, practically – Amun raised Altheia. He'd led her to various wells of knowledge and imparted to her his very own tokens of wisdom. He'd watched her grow, shift from one mastery to another, then supported her and pushed her to her limits. Admittedly, had the girl's biological parents not been good people, Amun would have taken her into the Nehesy line and treated her like his own. He would have instilled in her the Mesopotamian virtues and molded her into a woman with prowess rivaling even those of the ancient hemetnetjer – priestess of the gods.

Unfortunately, even as influential as Amun was during her formative years, even though her own abilities caused her exclusion from her peer group most times, Altheia's capacity for affection towards humanity remained unconditional. What she saw, and felt, and learned – she accepted with grace. The girl loved books just as well as she loved thoughts, flaws, and cultures of people. He'd seen Altheia lose herself to music, and laughter, and dance; and what else life wanted to offer her, painful or not, she embraced with open arms.

That part of her – essential, untainted, untaught...

Not even he wanted to touch.

Because Amun was what he was – a sanguinary monster, undying – it'd have felt like the greatest sin: to look at her life, her love, and her beauty, then corrupt it with purpose.

Great frustration bubbled inside him. His own damn morals led her right to the den of the most wicked, self-serving, arrogant, half-witted leeches in the entirety of the European continent. It was just three years of waiting, why did he decide to check on Benjamin anyway? That self-satisfied brat only ever stayed in the temple. At least he was as obedient and predictable as children came.

"You look like you belong here." Amun clarified bitterly. "I didn't think you would."

Altheia shrugged. "Volterra's a world beyond me."

"It really is."

Altheia glared at him, and there was a solemn, suspicious tease in the scholar's tone as she accused, "Had I not ended up here, you would have changed me, I think."

"Yes, I would have," Amun agreed easily with a nod. "And I would have kept you in the other side of the world. Farther than far. Away from here." Amun frowned at her. "Here is not safe."

"Volterra is the safest—"

"Not for you. You have daydreams over your what you see here, dolcezza, but the stench of rotten blood will curdle your eyes with disgust soon enough. You are kind, Altheia. Precious," Amun said meaningfully. "And that means you have no place in Volturi."

Altheia's shoulders tensed. "That's not true, Amun. I'm right where I'm supposed to be."

"Before you attempt to convince me with half-hearted lies, do convince yourself first." Amun sneered at the panicked stutter of her heart. "You know it in yourself. They don't deserve you. And if you can't walk away when you want to, you'll find it in yourself when you need to."

Altheia glared at him. "Amun, I am Volturi."

"I know you," he stressed with a laugh. "You'll see."

Exasperated, Altheia threw her hands up and decided to end the entire discussion, which had morphed into a chat too morose for a morning reunion anyway. "Signore, you are the most confrontational man I have ever met. Yes, including those I met in Volterra. And you talked about manners."

Coolly, Amun replied, "Then we will revisit this at a different time."

Altheia scowled. Amun wondered if her sharp tongue had ever gotten her in trouble with the imperial leeches. He'd wager so.

"A confessore, medico e avvocato non tener il ver celato," he reminded her. To confessor, doctor, or lawyer, do not hide the truth. "In this case I am all three. Pray tell, who else will give you advice on romance? On adulthood? You know nothing about men, my dear!"

"Oh god..." Altheia shuddered animatedly as she made her way past him, out of the library and into the corridors. "While I do miss you, Amun, I do not miss being reprimanded for nothing at all! Please, let me distract you with the local attractions instead, and no, I do not mean the inhabitants. Lay off the Volterrans."

Amun chuckled. Drawling after her sarcastically, he echoed, "Why not?"

Altheia growled low. "Cacchio di ficanasso." Damn busybody.

"Ah! Before I forget, you must simply meet Benjamin."

»»—- ❈ —-««

Across the kings' chamber hall, Aro called out for Caius' attention. Aro's voice was cautious, as if he were treading carefully, and his unusual tone made the eldest monarch place his ledger down.

From the safety of his working desk, Caius arched a brow and answered, "What."

Aro cleared his throat. "As Altheia and I have already... shared beds, I have instructed Heidi to furnish additional furniture and clothing for her use... for whenever she chooses to stay in my quarters."

Instantly, Caius' right eye twitched in annoyance. Not knowing how to react, he said stiffly, "I see."

"Expect that Marcus will be asking for the same re-arrangement soon. If I understood his thoughts this morning correctly – within the week."

Aro had already...

Marcus was planning to...

Ugh.

Caius began to tap the tip of his shoe against the leg of his mahogany table. "I did not need to know that."

"No, you did not," Aro agreed. "But it would do you well to decide on what relationship you have with her. If any at all."

Caius deliberated in his mind, then realized that Aro was still waiting for him to speak as he pretended to be preoccupied with notarizing operational documents.

Aro used to remind him of his misdoings concerning her in passing and generally left the matter intact.

With a scowl, Caius responded, "So long as Altheia Beneventi is human, I am not interested."

To Caius, the small narrowing of Aro's gaze was akin to disappointment. "I see. If that is the case then what I ask of you now will only add to your convenience."

"Yes?"

The telepath offered, "So long as Altheia Beneventi is human, Caius, I implore you – do not be kind to her." Caius' eyes widened. "Do not talk to her. Do not teach her. Do not regard her. Do not use her. Do not," Aro emphasized strongly, "in any instance, even dare attempt to console her."

Aro capped his fountain pen and put it away stoically. Folding his hands flat atop each other on his desk, he matched the level of Caius' gaze, eyes as murky as oblivion.

"Do not test me, Caius. Do not expect me to tolerate your treatment of Altheia."

Internally, Caius was alarmed. In all the years he had spent with Aro, he'd never seen him this way. At least, not towards him, the sire. Setting aside his own work completely, "What have I done to earn your ire, exactly, Aro?"

Aro leaned back on his armchair and chuckled. "What indeed."

"What, is she not allowed strenuous tasks now, such as cataloguing?" Caius challenged. "Historical translation works? Logistics? Perhaps you wish to coddle her now, like a doll, like a fragile, shining gemstone, just as you did, at first, when you made Sulpic—argh!"

A split second and Caius was against the wall, held by the neck. Aro's left fist held him above the ground like a glacial noose. They both heard the cracking sound of stone that was not the wall behind him, but his impenetrable flesh.

Caius wrapped his hands over Aro's vice-like grip, red eyes flashing sharply. "Release me!"

Aro did no such thing. "I have no patience for your foolhardiness. I have read her mind and yours. Intentional or not, I understand that your thoughtlessness has led Altheia to believe that the primary reason for her being here is service. As if she is lesser! As if here she does not belong!" Striated lines appeared on the surface of Caius' neck as he struggled. "After all, who is she compared to the glorious Athenian muse who sated you and catered to your whims for millennia, hmm?"

Caius froze and remembered the look on Altheia's face – the moment she stepped into his private studio. The realization sank into him and his jaw slackened. "I..."

"If you ever raise her hopes that you are capable of becoming a better man, deserving of all her imperfections and tenderness – when you are truly, helplessly, despicably not..." Aro began, "If you ever disrespect who she is... what she is... To me, to the Volturi, ever again..."

Caius remembered how quickly Altheia had asked him to leave. The tremble in her voice. The bowing of her head.

No. I can do this on my own.

"I will take every single thing you have amassed and burn it to the ground," Aro swore. "I won't leave you with a shred of victory, mercy, or fame. Not even for myself."

No. I can do this on my own.

Aro released him with a disappointed sneer before letting out a sharp breath and turning for the exit.

"I won't ask you again, Caius. Think about it. Who is she, to you?

*Translations for this chapter:

nonno - grandfather, grampa

hemetnetjer - female priests of Ancient Egypt that served the god Amun

dolcezza- sweetheart

Version 31 August 2021.