Felix Volturi × Demetri Volturi × human mate (fem)
The air in the small apartment was heavy, charged with an electricity that had nothing to do with the approaching storm. Outside, on the balcony, the July sun was beating down hard, but the shouts coming from the building next door sliced through the domestic quiet like glass blades.
The neighbor—a man with a purple face and neck veins pulsing with futile rage—was bellowing again. "I told you to take that laundry down! It stinks! It’s a disgrace, it attracts insects!"
Felix remained motionless, leaning against the doorframe that led to the living room. He hadn't moved since the girl had gone out to try to calm her father, but his posture had changed. It was no longer the casual elegance of a hunter in waiting; it was the compressed tension of a steel spring. His eyes, usually clear and lethargic like black velvet, had taken on a glassy, almost magnetic luster. His marble face showed not a shred of human empathy; there was only a detached curiosity, the same kind an entomologist reserves for a pesky insect before crushing it.
Demetri, conversely, was a shadow within the shadows of the darkest corner of the hallway. His usual mocking expression had vanished, replaced by a smile that didn't reach his eyes. It was a predatory smile, thin as a line drawn with a scalpel. His gaze wasn't directed at the neighbor, but at the girl's racing heartbeat, a rhythm he perceived distinctly, a throb of fear that annoyed him deeply.
"I told you to close that door! It's rude, it’s... it’s an indecency!" the neighbor continued to scream, then lunged toward the girl’s father, who, with clenched fists and locked jaw, was about to climb over the railing.
"Dad, no! Stop, please!" her voice was a gasp, cracked with humiliation. "It’s not worth it, they’ll arrest you because of this idiot!"
Demetri stepped forward, his movement imperceptible, fluid as flowing mercury. He turned toward Felix, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. They didn't need to speak; the bond that tied them to the fragile creature they had chosen was a categorical imperative that transcended their nature.
"The noise is... annoying, don't you think, Felix?" Demetri's voice was a razor cutting through the silence of the room. It was low, velvety, but loaded with a promise of violence that would have made anyone’s blood run cold had they the misfortune to hear it.
Felix pushed off the doorframe, moving with a predatory grace that defied all physical laws. His gaze returned to the girl, then settled on the neighbor's rage-distorted silhouette on the balcony. There was no anger in him, only a glacial annoyance, the desire to cleanse the scene of that disturbing element.
"It is not the noise that is annoying, Demetri," Felix replied, his voice a superhuman murmur, devoid of human vibrations. "It is the insolence toward what belongs to us. No one should dare raise their voice in the presence of... of her."
Felix took a step toward the ajar door, his body seeming to absorb the ambient light. He wasn't running, but in a fraction of a second, the distance between the living room and the doorway became nothing. His gaze, fixed on the man outside, was like an electric shock. The neighbor, without understanding why, stopped abruptly; the words died in his throat as if he had swallowed ice. For an instant, the man met Felix's eyes, and what he saw in that primordial abyss was so total, so terrible in its nullity, that it forced an instinctive recoil that nearly made him stumble.
Demetri followed, his figure seeming to obscure the sun filtering through the open door. He stopped behind the girl, placing a hand on her shoulder with a possessiveness that brooked no argument. The girl's father froze, seized by a sudden shiver, a visceral reaction he couldn't explain but which forced him to let go of the parapet.
"I believe," Demetri said, addressing the girl's father with a smile that was pure, contained cruelty, "that the gentleman has exhausted his repertoire. Hasn't he, dear neighbor?"
There was no need for verbal threats. The silence that enveloped the balcony was heavy with a supernatural menace. The neighbor, pale as a sheet, didn't say another word. He went back inside, closing his own door with a speed that bordered on panic, letting silence finally reign once more.
Felix remained motionless, his gaze turned toward the interior of the apartment, toward her, as if waiting only for a nod to erase that nuisance from the world, once and for all.
"I don't care if you eat people... but if eating them means making this... thing go away," she said, gesturing toward the wall shared with the next-door apartment, "then so be it. Are years it keep going on... Why is the only idiot within ten miles living right next to us?" The girl said this as evening fell, alone with the two of them in her room.
The dim light of the room was interrupted only by the blade of light filtering from the hallway, casting long, distorted shadows on the walls. The girl was sitting on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixed against the wall that separated them from the outside world, from the noise, from the neighbor, and from the absurdity of the day.
Felix had remained in the darkest corner, arms crossed over his chest, a perfectly composed statue of granite. His pupils, black as obsidian, never left the girl's profile. Hearing those words, an imperceptible movement shook his shoulders. It wasn't distress; it was a dark form of amusement. A smile, barely hinted at, creased his perfect lips.
"Your pragmatism, my dear, is... refreshing," Felix began, his voice cold velvet that seemed to vibrate in the still air. He approached her with the fluidity of a predator preparing to pounce, stopping just inches away. "Most humans tremble at the thought of our nature. You, on the other hand, evaluate its utility as if we were talking about fixing a faucet."
Demetri, for his part, had leaned against the window frame, watching the city lights twinkling faintly in the distance. He laughed, a dry sound, devoid of any warmth, which seemed to make the glass tremble.
"Ten miles is a rather generous radius," Demetri commented, turning toward her with eyes glowing with a famished light, an unnatural reflection that made his face even sharper. "If you wish for the 'problem' to be removed, we don't need to trouble our diet. There are much more... silent methods to make a man's life unbearably difficult, or to convince him to move to the most distant and desolate place on earth."
Felix took a step forward, his towering presence obscuring the light from the bedside lamp. "But if your preference were instead to fall upon the definitive solution..." he continued, lowering his voice until it became a superhuman murmur that slid down the girl's spine, "it would be a pleasure to make the nuisance disappear. An act of courtesy, not hunger."
Demetri detached himself from the window, the movement rapid and feline. He approached her from the opposite side, completing the circle around her figure. "The world is full of idiots, it's true. But none of them have had the misfortune of attracting the attention of those who do not play by human rules," he whispered, leaning toward her ear. "Just tell me it is what you want, and that wall will return to being nothing more than a silent boundary between us and nothingness."
Felix didn't avert his gaze, waiting for confirmation, a nod, a blink that would give the signal to the predator that, for hours, had been restless under his cold skin. "Well? Must we rid you of this weight, or do you prefer we limit ourselves to a lesson he will never forget?"
"Lesson first, and then, if that doesn't work... do what you have to," she said, shrugging. The sweet, calm girl of the week before seemed to have vanished, as if the morning's episode hadn't been the only one.
The silence that followed her sentence was of a dense, almost solid quality. There was no trace of hesitation or fear in her voice; only the weariness of someone who has endured an irritating interference for too long.
Demetri was the first to react. His smile widened, becoming genuine in his predatory satisfaction. He dropped onto the edge of the bed beside her; the weight of his body—nonexistent for a human, but dense as lead—made the mattress sink. He reached out a hand, brushing her chin with his icy index finger, forcing her to look him straight in the eyes.
"A lesson," he repeated, savoring the word as if it were a fine wine. "It is fascinating to see you lose your patience. It is a new color; it suits you."
Felix, for his part, remained standing, but his expression had changed. The almost religious austerity that usually enveloped him had cracked, revealing a dark curiosity. He was no longer just the warrior following orders, but a man seeing, finally, a glimmer of the ferocity he himself knew all too well.
"A lesson," confirmed Felix, his voice vibrating like distant thunder. "Very well. It will be a lesson he remembers for the rest of his... short existence."
They exchanged a quick glance, a brief exchange of information in a language that didn't belong to this world. They didn't need elaborate plans; for them, manipulating a human's reality was little more than a magic trick.
"He won't leave his house to complain anymore," added Demetri, his tone sliding into a raspy, promising whisper. "He will learn that silence is the highest form of wisdom, especially when living next to... entities who would prefer not to be disturbed. But I warn you: once we begin to dismantle his security, there will be no return. The man who returns to look from that balcony will not be the same one who yelled at you today. He will be an empty shell, terrified of his own shadow."
Felix took a step toward the door, his broad shoulders seeming to fill the room's space. "Patience is a virtue that does not belong to us, but for you, we can display it for a few more hours. Tonight, while he sleeps, his world will begin to crumble. And if tomorrow morning I should still hear the sound of his voice..."
Felix didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. His gaze, fixed on the wall, was a promise of total oblivion.
"Consider it done," concluded Demetri, rising and reaching out a hand toward Felix. "Let us prepare the ground. We shall see if his insolence survives a night of nightmares he cannot explain."
The girl remained there, sitting in the darkness, while the two Volturi moved toward the exit with the unnatural grace of those who know exactly how to break a man without even touching him. The neighbor didn't know he had signed his own condemnation, and for the first time, the girl felt not the slightest trace of remorse.
What had happened earlier had only been the detonator; the true change had occurred within her, aware of having at her side not just companions, but two of the most feared creatures in history, ready to transform her anger into a punishment that would transcend the boundaries of reason.
My headcanon for Movies!Jane and Movies!Alec is that in the movies they were around 18/19 where Aro found them and turned them. In the books they were 12/13 when Aro turned them, but in the movies it's clear that they were older when it happened.
Many of the characters' ages are different in the movies. For example, in the books Marcus was 19 when Aro turned him, but in the movies it's clear that he was way older when he was turned.
Also, friendly reminder that in the Twilight lore it's canon that vampires stop aging not only physically but also mentally. Source:
💬 0 🔁 4 ❤️ 11 · Let's have a talk, shall we? · ⚠️TW⚠️: Mention of pedophilia and grooming
I've been seeing people here on social media fo
Hello!! Thank you for requesting this. Jane has a lot of very interesting lore in my opinion so here are some headcanons i feel would be scared for her if she we’re to fall in love with a human :))
𖤝 First of all, Jane would initially treat a human relationship like a private experiment. We know Jane is emotionally stunted from being turned so young and from centuries of serving the Volturi. She understands fear, loyalty, and power better than affection.
𖤝 She’d be obsessively protective, but in a possessive Volturi way rather than a soft and caring, healthy way. A human partner would become “hers” in the same category as a treasured object or strategic asset.
𖤝 Physical affection would start out awkward. Jane’s personality is controlled and detached; she’s not naturally warm nor affectionate. But once attached, she’d probably become quietly clingy in private while acting completely indifferent in public.
𖤝 She would absolutely weaponize silence. Instead of arguing, she’d stare at you until you became uncomfortable. The Volturi court culture rewards intimidation and restraint.
𖤝 Alec would know about the relationship before anyone else. The twins are deeply bonded, and Jane would trust her brother’s opinion more than almost anyone’s, maybe even more than Aro in personal matters.
𖤝 Aro would find the relationship fascinating rather than romantic. He’d likely tolerate it as long as the human was useful, entertaining, or emotionally stabilizing for Jane. The Volturi are political first, sentimental second.
𖤝 Jane would test loyalty constantly: Constantly asking you if you’re scared of her or what she’s done, disappear for days without an explanation, casually threaten others in front of you to see your reaction, etc…
𖤝 She’d secretly like human warmth, since she’s ice-cold. It might just be a slight memory of her human life, but she will never admit it.
𖤝 She would hate being treated like a child. Even though she was turned around 12–13 physically, Jane is mentally centuries old. A human infantilizing her would immediately anger her.
𖤝 Jealousy would be terrifyingly subtle. Jane wouldn’t scream or cry. She’d politely smile at the person flirting with you while they suddenly experience unexplained agony five minutes later.
𖤝 She would never fully relax around mortality. A human lifespan is incredibly short compared to Volturi time. Even if she cared deeply, part of her would see the relationship as temporary unless, she deeply falls in love with her human and would consider transformation an option.
𖤝 If she genuinely loved a human, she’d become more dangerous, not softer. Jane reacts to emotional threats with cruelty and control because vulnerability is foreign to her.
𖤝 Caius would probably dislike the relationship immediately. He’s paranoid and intolerant in canon, especially regarding anything that could destabilize Volturi authority.
𖤝 Jane would remember tiny details about a human partner despite pretending not to care: Their favourite scent, the rhythm of your heartbeat when she’s around you, your nervous habits, your preferences in music or books, etc…
𖤝 She’d be fascinated by human fear because her power is built around it. But if she truly cared for someone, seeing genuine fear directed at her might actually unsettle her more than she’d admit.
𖤝 If the human were eventually turned, Jane would likely become intensely attached afterward. Immortality removes the one thing she cannot control: losing them to time.
Alec Volturi x Vampire/Hybrid Reader x Jane Volturi
The guards call you 'the witch twins' mate' but you rather enjoy the reputation it brings.
They don't say it to your face at first.
They say it in lowered voices, in corridors they thought you wouldn’t bother walking through, in that careful, superstitious way immortals speak when they didn’t want to attract attention.
“The Witch Twins’ mate.”
Not your name.
Not you.
Just that.
A title. A warning.
Something to step around.
You hear it anyway.
Of course you do.
You pause just beyond the archway, a slow grin spreading across your face as two guards go abruptly silent mid-conversation.
“Oh no,” you say, stepping into view. “Don’t stop on my account. I love gossip.”
Both guards stiffen immediately.
One tries to recover. “We weren’t…”
“Talking about me?” you finish sweetly.
A flicker of flame curls lazily around your fingers.
Not threatening.
Just present.
The second guard swallows. “We meant no disrespect.”
You tilt your head. “That’s a shame. I usually enjoy disrespect.”
Then, a third voice cuts in, cool, precise.
“You will enjoy silence more.”
Jane.
She appears without hurry, but the effect was immediate. The guards drop their gaze, tension snapping tight in the air.
Your smile shifts, less sharp now, more familiar.
“You heard that?” You ask.
“I hear everything worth hearing,” Jane replies.
Alec steps in beside her a moment later, his presence quieter, but heavier.
You glance between them, then back at the guards.
“They called me your mate,” You say, tone light but curious underneath.
Jane’s expression doesn’t change. “You are.”
Alec’s gaze rests on you. “It is accurate.”
You hum, considering that.
“They said it like it’s a threat.”
Jane’s lips curve slightly. “It is.”
That made you laugh.
Bright. Unbothered.
“Good,” you say. “I was hoping I had a reputation.”
Alec steps closer, his attention shifting fully to you now.
“You do,” he says.
You raise a brow. “Oh?”
“Unpredictable,” Jane adds.
“Uncontrolled,” Alec continues.
You fold your arms. “Rude.”
Jane’s gaze flicks over you. “Dangerous.”
Alec’s voice drops slightly. “Ours.”
That one lands differently.
Your expression softens, just for a second.
Then you grin again, wider this time.
“So what you’re saying,” you drawl, stepping closer into their space, “is that I’m terrifying by association.”
Jane tilts her head. “You were already terrifying.”
Alec doesn’t disagree.
You look between them, clearly pleased.
“I like the sound of that,” you say.
You reach out, catching Jane’s hand first, quick, impulsive, tugging her just slightly closer. Jane allows it without resistance.
Then your other hand finds Alec’s sleeve, fingers curling there easily.
“‘The Witch Twins’ mate,’” you repeat, testing the words.
Jane watches you carefully. “Does it bother you?”
You shake your head immediately. “No.”
You pause.
Then, softer.
“It kind of feels like I belong somewhere.”
Alec’s hand comes up, steady and familiar, to the back of your neck.
“You do,” he says.
Jane steps in closer on your other side, her presence just as grounding, but different, sharper, but no less certain.
“You belong with us,” Jane adds.
You exhale slowly, something in you settling.
Then, of course, you ruin the softness, just a little.
“So,” you say brightly, “does this mean I outrank everyone now?”
Jane’s expression goes flat. “No.”
Alec’s tone was just as calm. “Not us.”
You sigh dramatically. “Worth a try.”
But you don’t step away.
Don’t pull out of their space.
If anything, you lean in more, balanced between them, exactly where you were meant to be.
Behind them, the guards don’t dare speak again.
Not because of Alec.
Not because of Jane.
But because now they understand something much worse.
Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, mentions of manipulative behavior, Alec should be his own warning, a bit of violence, grief, loss, missing relative.
MDNI
Chapter 4
Gracie
'Handling the situation' turned out to be much more boring than Grace had imagined. She had expected a real hunt—tracking newborn vampires through the woods or a raid on their hideouts. Instead, Jane, Demetri, and Felix had taken off to find the person behind the whole mess, leaving Alec behind with her. Jane had said it very simply: Grace would just be "in the way." It was a blow to her pride, but it was true; she had no combat training, and she still couldn't use her shield to protect anyone but herself.
Alec was less than pleased, to say the least. He was being forced to forfeit the grim satisfaction of the hunt—the dark "fun" of cornering a criminal and watching them squirm, witnessing that frantic, human-like desperation as they tried to justify the unjustifiable, even knowing their end was written in stone. He bled his frustration out onto Grace, his gaze growing sharper, more wary with every passing hour.
They retreated to a dense, primeval stretch of forest midway between Seattle and Forks. The vegetation was so suffocatingly thick that no human hiker would dare wander in—a necessary precaution, as Grace was still a creature of raw, newborn instincts.
That was another thorn in Alec’s side. He took it upon himself the bothersome task of bringing food for Grace, so nobody can accidentally see her. Though his manners remained impeccably polished, he could barely mask the mounting agitation beneath the surface. Grace tried—she truly did—to be pleasant, but she was met with a wall of ice. She had no idea why was he so damn angry at her, what could she possibly do in 4 days to make him feel so...agitated? As she was still in her newborn stage, she grew increasingly irritated by his behavior, and the air grew colder between them day by day.
Alec’s behavior gave Grace a sense of emotional whiplash. There were fleeting moments when he looked at her and his eyes seemed almost... soft. But the second she tried to offer a smile or kindle a conversation, he recoiled as if she were a physical blight upon his world. He was a man at war with himself. Grace was too, but she at least attempted the veneer of civilization. How old is he, really? she wondered bitterly. Shouldn't he be better at this than me?
Yet, she lived for the moments when he would sit with her and unravel the dark tapestries of his world. He spoke of the ancient laws, weaving stories of Aro, Caius, and Marcus with a melodic, soothing voice that acted like a balm on her jagged nerves. But those moments were ghosts—gone as soon as they appeared.
On the fifth day of their isolation, the tension finally snapped. It was Alec’s fault, of course.
“Aww, look at you,” he drawled, leaning against a moss-covered cedar, his voice dripping with condescension. “You’ve got a little blood-mustache. And a bit on your chin. And, well, a gallon on your chest.”
“Do you truly have nothing better to do than lecture me?” Grace snapped, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. “I’m so sorry I forgot the family silverware at home. If I’d known my lack of etiquette would offend you so deeply, I’d have made sure to die with a silver straw in my bag!”
Grace felt the heat of humiliation crawling up her neck. Alec didn't flinch; instead, he seemed to beam, basking in her outburst.
“How could I ever pass up a chance to assist someone so clearly in need?” He pressed a hand to his heart—as if he had any—and cast a mocking look at the crimson pool staining the forest floor.
“What I need is to be left alone! Why do you even care?!”
“You need a shower, Grace. That is what you need. And new clothes, because nothing in this world is getting that blood out. Someone truly must teach you how to feed like a predator rather than a scavenger. You hesitate every time you start, yet you manage to waste half of it anyway,” he said flatly.
There was truth in his words, which stung more than the insult. “What, am I supposed to just stroll into a motel?” she spat. “We’re in the middle of nowhere! And don’t act like your hands are clean!” He simply raised an arched eyebrow. Of course. Mr. Perfect didn't leave a mess. “Did you come here just to watch me beg for help, or is there a point?”
“Don’t tempt me. Here are some clothes.” He gave Grace a bag. “It has soap too. And there’s a perfectly good waterfall right in front of you. Please don’t make me have to look at this mess any longer.”
“Don’t tempt me. Here,” he said, tossing a bag toward her. “Clothes. Soap. And there’s a perfectly functional waterfall right in front of you. Please, spare me the sight of this disaster any longer.”
Grace’s left eye twitched. She looked at his perfect, marble face—a face she found herself increasingly fascinated by, despite the venom he poured on her. She wanted to be near him, to talk to him as an equal, but every remark he made felt like a hammer blow to her heart. This was the final straw.
"I went through the unimaginable in the last month!” She erupted, her voice echoing through the trees. “I was brutally beaten, had my arm, skull and jaw broken, turned into a bloodsucking vampire, and had to kill people to feed myself and keep my sanity! You seem to forget that a month ago, my biggest problem was choosing a career path and university!”
Alec seemed to have lost his voice; he just stood in front of Grace like a marble statue. Grace’s voice, however, was rising with every word.
“And now I have 'superpowers' that you all want to weaponize? God forbid I disappoint you by not mastering them in five days! To put the cherry on top, I lost my family too!” She was screaming now, stepping into his space, her finger jabbing at his chest. “One day I was loved by people and had a future ahead of me, and now they don’t even know where to look for my body! I’m terrified Riley will find them and kill them for me escaping him, too! Oh, and let’s not forget tearing my killer apart either! That was wonderful to go through, I didn’t even know what the fuck I was doing, and I hate him, but all I can feel now is a sickening crunch while I tore his head clean off, and I don’t fucking feel better, DO YOU HEAR ME, ALEC?!”
He heard her. He didn't move. He didn't even try to stop her as her fists began to drum against his chest.
“I escaped a sociopath who wanted me for a war, only to deal with an elitist, stuck-up, sadistic piece of shit who riles me up because I drank 'messily'? Are you out of your mind?! You act so polite, but I see right through it! You hate me, and I have no idea why! I don't deserve this from you! I never hurt you!”
Grace hated the screaming. It wasn't her. She was the girl who stayed calm, who kept her voice measured. But now, every emotion was amplified, a roar in her head she couldn't quiet. Physically, she felt like she could tear down a tank, but mentally, she was hollowed out. She wanted to go home. She wanted to curl up on her carpet and cry until there was nothing left. She needed a hug so desperately that even now, she wouldn't have pushed him away if he had reached out.
But Alec just stood there, staring at her as if he were seeing a person for the first time. Grace ripped the bag from his hand.
“Thank you,” she spat, her voice thick with bitterness. “I’ll add this to the list of 'charities' you’ve performed for me. Now, turn around, or would you like to lower yourself from the heavens to soap my back, too?”
Alec felt the unfamiliar weight of a mistake. He had burned entire villages to ash as if it were a mundane Tuesday chore, but this... this felt different. As Grace stomped away toward the hidden pool, he watched her retreating form. For the first time in centuries, he felt like an absolute asshole.
She looked so fragile. Not physically—she was strong, well-formed, a predator in her own right—but in the vastness of the dark woods, she looked broken. Even while she was screaming at him, he had seen the plea in her eyes. She was made of glass, and he had spent five days scratching the surface just because he refused to face the truth.
Guilt was not a feeling Alec Volturi lived with, recognised easily, cared enough to feel.
In the hushed halls of Volterra, he was the master of manipulation. Every once in a decade, when he got bored out of his mind, he liked to play with their human servants. Just because he wasn't as distant, grumpy or downright sadistic as his sister, they thought he was kinder. He was just misunderstood.
Alec loved to lull them into a false sense of security, to make them blush, open up to him. Make them feel like he cared. He pretended to be understanding; sometimes, he even flirted. He loved the way their heart hammered in their chest when he smiled, looked them in the eye, or laughed. Loved when a shiver went through them, when his fingers brushed their hands, how they yearned for him, even though he never went further with humans.
But what he loved about this play even more was when he suddenly shattered this false image they had built up in their minds about him. The terror in their eyes, the betrayal, the tears - those were oh so lovely. Not physically, no. Humans - some smells, some sounds they made - repulsed him. He basked in the feeling that he had this kind of power over them.
Sometimes even over other vampires.
He actually couldn't believe his own ears when he involuntarily splurted out:
"Sorry."
The echo of the short word followed by the sudden urge to smash his face on the nearest rock wall for even uttering it.
Grace didn’t look back at him, and Alec’s cold, unbeating heart twisted with a phantom pain.
The realization struck him like a lightning bolt, nearly staggering him.
Oh. Oh no. Absolutely not. He tried to rationalize it. If they just kept things civil, it would pass. It had to. Grace Sinclair was not—could not be—his mate.
“... now they don’t even know where to look for my body! I’m terrified Riley will find them and kill them for me escaping him, too!”
His body moved on it’s own when he walked back to the clearing and rummaged through the stuff in the backpack he saw Grace carrying everywhere. To his surprise, it was full of mundane things like a CD, her old water bottle, car keys, books, notes, and strange, pink rectangular bags. Women's stuff? Alec had no idea, but for some unknown reason, he felt like a criminal for touching them. Almost hissing, he threw them back where he found them.
He also found a magazine about celebrities with horoscopes that smelled different than the rest of the bag, probably a friend's. It opened at a quiz—What type of pasta are you? Apparently, Grace was chicken alfredo. Alec grimaced. Jesus Christ.
Finally, he found her wallet. He pulled out her ID. The photo was hideous—how could humans never take a proper picture? But there it was. Her address.
Minutes later, Alec was a blur through the trees, running through Seattle, all the way to the quiet streets of Bellevue.
He stopped in front of a sprawling, modern three-story house. It was beautiful, with vast windows overlooking the bay. Grace’s parents were inside. Alive. For now.
He slipped through the front door like a ghost. The interior was spotless, grey-toned, and expensive. In the kitchen, he saw the back of a man—Grace’s father. He was tall, with the same raven hair as his daughter, but he was collapsing into himself. A bottle of whiskey sat on the table. No glass.
He didn’t realize there was a vampire behind him, wandering around in the house soundlessly. Alec moved upstairs, walking past the bathroom. Despite the time being 2 am, Grace’s mother was kneeling on the floor with a toothbrush, scrubbing the (already spotless) grout. She looked like she was elsewhere, like she wasn’t even seeing what she was doing. Like a ghost, her face was hollow, with purple bags under her swollen, red eyes.
She couldn’t possibly have seen Alec, who moved way too fast for her eyes to catch his movement, yet she perked up and looked at the door. She seemed jumpy, like a cornered, terrified animal.
When he heard her start scrubbing again, Alec turned the knob of a white door with pink flowers painted on it, and stepped into Grace’s childhood bedroom.
Her walls were a lovely shade of periwinkle, and her sweet, still human scent lingered everywhere, sweet and agonizing. He felt the venom pool in his mouth but ignored it, his eyes scanning every detail. The bed was made— purple frog-patterned sheets, really?
Stepping away from her bed, he noticed pictures on her wall. Each with loved ones, or about nature. It seemed like Grace was quite a great photographer, which surprised Alec. He loved photography as well.
Grace as a child, grinning on a podium. More trophies for academic competitions, gymnastics, and so on. And then, a photo of a sleek white boat named Gracie. She was at the helm, her father standing behind her, looking more proud than words could say. Her whole life laid out in front of him. On the picture with her dad, on a post it she wrote: U.S. Merchant Marine Academy, here I come!
Alec had a strange, sinking feeling in his stomach. The Grace in these pictures, the girl who slept with a frog-patterned comforter, who still had her desk covered in school essays and books... He could practically see her slouching on this very chair, covering parts of her notes, studying, preparing for a future she’ll never have. Gracie was gone forever. But Grace had actual forever to become something else. Anything, really.
Suddenly, Grace’s father stood up and headed upstairs, making his way toward his daughter’s bedroom. Alec cursed under his breath. He didn’t want to leave yet; he had come with a purpose—one he hadn’t fully thought through. Suddenly, he found himself wondering what, in the name of all that’s holy, he was doing there. He's here for the Volturi's sake. He can't have their possible greatest protection crumble from the death of her parents! The mental image of her face distorted from giref had nothing to do with it. Making a split-second decision, Alec Volturi swallowed his pride (it nearly choked him) and scrambled under the bed. It was a new low; he had finally hit rock bottom. Resigned to his fate, he closed his eyes and waited.
The man pushed the door open and paced around the room. He checked the closet before stopping in the center of the room, taking a deep, shaky breath. He let out a low sob, then began taking deep breaths to calm himself. Even from under the bed, Alec could smell the stale alcohol clinging to him, the scent of someone who hadn’t bathed in days, and he could hear the frantic, uneven thumping of a heart under immense stress. Grace’s mother soon followed him in from the bathroom, bringing the sharp, antiseptic stench of bleach with her. Alec let out a silent snarl. They were polluting the sweet, lingering scent that filled the room.
“She’s not here, and you know it,” the woman said, her voice raspy. “What are you expecting, William? That you’ll just walk in and she’ll be sitting there? That she’ll say hello and tell you she’s home?” Her voice was cold, devoid of any sympathy. Alec marveled at William’s restraint; the sudden spike in the man's heart rate suggested he desperately wanted to slap her.
“I’m expecting you to finally disappear! Our daughter is gone. God knows where she is or what they’re doing to her, and you’ve been scrubbing that damn grout for two straight hours as if it matters!” By the end of the sentence, he was screaming into his wife’s face.
The woman didn't flinch, though Alec couldn’t see her expression. Finally, her voice rose with a hint of accusation.
“What is this? Why did you put this rag back?” She yanked the frog-patterned blanket off the bed. William ripped it out of her hands.
“Don’t you dare touch it, Dawn! Don’t you ever take it off again!”
“Grace was eighteen! It was time for her to grow up and act like a mature woman!” Dawn shouted back.
“Have you lost your mind? Is this seriously your biggest problem—what’s on her bed? Lately, you’ve been hovering over her like a damn spider! ‘Get rid of your frogs, Grace,’ ‘Apply to Yale and Harvard, Grace,’ ‘You’re spending too much time with Abby, don't let it ruin your grades!’, ‘You HAVE to get into one of those universities, Grace,’ ‘Forget that navy nonsense, Grace!’, ‘Don’t wear that, don’t cut your hair like that, don’t use that perfume, wash off that makeup, don’t eat so much!’. Maybe she just left on her own!”
SLAP.
Dawn struck William across the face and burst into tears herself.
“How can you say that to me? I only wanted the best for her! I only cared about her reaching her full potential so she could have a future! So she could be successful! So she wouldn't have to marry just for a quiet life! And you—you worked against me the whole time, letting her do everything I forbade just so you could be the ‘cool dad’! How dare you accuse me, you drunken pig!” SLAP. “Grace is dead, William! She’s never coming back! It doesn’t matter how much you pace around in here, or how many times you put that hideous rag back on her bed, or how much you drink yourself to death—we are never seeing our daughter again! And you’ve left me all alone; you collapsed, and now I have to handle everything by myself!”
Dawn screamed in a frenzy, throwing the blanket to the floor. Her legs shook from the force of her sobbing, and Alec watched her tears fall into the fibers of the carpet. He saw two broken people before him, crushed under the weight of a sin they hadn't committed. Alec surprised himself; he was glad Grace wasn’t there to see this. Normally, he would have felt a twisted sense of pleasure in seeing Grace weep at such a scene. But now, even searching the deepest parts of his soul, he couldn’t find a shred of malice toward her.
Dawn and William stormed out of the room, continuing their argument in the living room, hurling increasingly cruel insults at one another. For a moment, Alec rested his forehead against the floor and exhaled. As he prepared to crawl out from under the bed, he spotted a ragged, faded frog plushie. Grace had likely hidden it there to save it from her mother’s crusade. He couldn't help but smirk as he pocketed the worn-out toy. Tucked away under some papers on her desk, he noticed an old but beautifully crafted brass compass; Alec took that as well.
The bed was a mess, and Grace’s pajamas—the ones she had last worn—peeked out from under the covers. Alec felt like a creep when he bent down to inhale her scent from her shirt deeply. Then, it suddenly hit him how he must look from the outside. Hiding under a bed and sniffing pajamas? He straightened up and buried his face in his hands.
Aro is going to have a field day with these memories, he thought grimly, fists clenching at his sides, pride already hurt well in advance.
Then, the air changed. The shouting continued in the living room, but a different scent wafted up the stairs. A vampire.
Alec sped down the stairs soundlessly and came to a halt in front of the intruder. The stranger stood not far from Grace’s arguing parents, staring at the prey with dilated pupils. So, the girl’s fear had been justified after all.
The stranger caught sight of Alec, and horror washed over his face as he noticed the crest around Alec’s neck—the symbol of the Volturi. Alec jerked his chin toward the door, and the vampire nodded, understanding.
The street was deathly silent. The stranger stood defeated before a member of the Volturi guard, and Alec felt a familiar, sticky emotion pooling in his heart. Good. Be afraid, lowlife.
“A late-night visit?” Alec asked pleasantly, as if asking about the weather, making the man flinch. He didn’t know how to handle the situation.
“I’m following orders,” he finally replied reluctantly, daring to look Alec in the eye for the first time. Alec smiled back at him.
“I thought as much. I’m sure your presence here has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the girl being mourned inside—which, by the way, is surely not your fault either—escaped you a few days ago. Am I correct?”
“Y...yes.”
“You’re lying, mongrel!” Alec watched the figure with a bright smile. “I know the truth. Within ten minutes of her escape, the girl—Grace—found her place within the ranks of the Volturi. We have plans for her. Even you can understand that much, can’t you? The Volturi have plans for her. I’m sure your creator told you about their little encounter with my sister.” Riley—if it were possible—turned even paler.
“You’re Alec?” he asked. Alec was now thoroughly enjoying himself. He felt his invisible mist reach the man’s feet, and the vampire simply went numb, paralyzed.
Watching Riley’s terrified face as he stared blankly into the void, wondering if he even still existed, a limitless, cold joy crept into Alec’s soul. Once he had savored the moment enough, he withdrew the mist and grabbed Riley by the throat.
“You are going to get out of here. You aren't coming back—not you, and not any other filth from your pack.” Riley could only nod, and the moment Alec let go, he turned his back to run. Alec immediately sent his mist on Riley again, just for good measure. Riley was crawling on the dirty ground beneath Alec's feet, didn’t see or feel where. After a few good minutes, when Alec found he was terrified enough, he finally let him go, and Riley vanished into the night.
Alec had wanted to kill him, but he didn't know what Jane was planning; they hadn't seen each other in six days. He didn't want to jeopardize his sister’s schemes, so he forced himself to hold back.
Grace didn’t know where Alec had disappeared to after she had yelled at him. When she returned from her bath, he was simply gone. Probably burning down an orphanage, she thought with a dry sense of humor.
The water had been wonderful, and she enjoyed the fact that despite the icy temperature, she didn't feel the cold. The outfit Alec had brought her was a beautifully draped black skirt and a three-quarter-sleeve turtleneck. It covered her from neck to toe, the fabric soft against her skin. He had also provided a pair of light black shoes. To her surprise, she felt good in it. She was just spinning around to admire the skirt when she noticed Alec standing among the trees, watching her.
“Hi,” she waved, and he stepped closer. “Thank you for the clothes. My mother never let me wear black,” she added casually, avoiding his gaze.
There was something unreadable in his expression as he looked at her. Finally, after the silence became awkward, he swallowed and spoke.
“Here,” he said, pressing a bundle into Grace’s hands.
“My frog! My compass!” she squealed, a wave of warmth flooding her heart. “How did you get them? Did you go into our house?”
“How else would I have gotten them?” Alec asked, unused to triggering such genuine outbursts of joy in others. He began to fiddle with his thumb and took a deep breath to gather his thoughts. Should he tell her? Or not? He decided not to.
“Your parents are alive. They aren't well, there's no point denying that. But they will be okay.” He said it with such certainty that Grace, though she didn’t know why, believed him.
If she started questioning why he went there or teasing him now, they would end up right back where they started—arguing. Grace didn’t want that. Overcome by a sudden warmth, and before she could overthink it, she pressed a kiss to Alec’s left cheek. Alec had the reflexes to dodge, but he didn’t. “Thank you.” Alec looked as if he might sink into the ground right then and there. Grace’s lips left a lingering buzz on his cheek, and he felt like an idiotic boy. His embarrassment wasn't helped by the loud, suggestive whistling from between the trees, followed by a teasing grin and a massive, robust frame.
“Hey, Felix,” Grace stammered. Behind Felix, Demetri and Jane also stepped into the clearing, causing Alec and Grace to scramble apart.
“I see you two have been getting cozy! Just say the word and we’ll leave you to it!” Demetri teased. Jane, meanwhile, looked as if she had just been told Christmas was canceled. Grace couldn't let them mock Alec back into his shell.
“I just nagged Alec until he went to see how my parents were doing!” she lied without blinking. “And I asked him to bring me a few things while he was there. I was afraid Riley might attack them, but luckily, there's no danger.”
Felix rolled his eyes and waved her off dismissively, looking like someone whose favorite TV show had just been postponed. Alec gave Grace a grateful look, then stepped toward Jane. Jane hugged her brother, but didn't spare Grace a single glance.
“Get ready, Alec,” Jane declared. “We are going to war.”
