Chapter Text
Generally, it is not unreasonable to grant audience to a man of exceptional wisdom and nobility, but Aro Volturi, genius and royalty amongst immortal men, had exhausted his brothers’ capacity for generosity and attention long, long ago.
As he marched into the expanse of their shared study, Aro declared, “Caius! Marcus! The brightest realization came to me as I was walking the grounds this morning!” Aro’s smile was gleeful, blinding. “I daresay we shall add it to our imminent agenda!”
Caius Volturi promptly turned his attention back to the calculations he’d been working on before he’d been interrupted. Caius was, above all, a learned man, having been subjected to a multitude of inane tirades introduced as “imminent agenda” by this scheming brother throughout the years. To great success, Caius had perfected the art of noncommittal responses and appropriately placed hums in the short pauses of these one-sided conversations, simultaneously appeasing his need for peace and Aro’s insanity as he prattled on.
“I truly cannot believe my own neglect!” Aro said, emotionally. “In the last millennia, we poured most of our efforts into adjudicating our kind and enforcing diplomacy that we'd completely overlooked the person who needed our concern the most! He was right beside us, unattended the entire time!”
“Hmm?”
“Our own brother: Marcus!” Aro announced, heartfully. “Festering! Loveless and catatonic all these years!”
“Hmm…”
“He should have been our priority. He should have his happiness.” Aro clapped his hands together, stating, “He deserves his own life of love!”
“Mm-hmm… really…”
“Why yes! Oh, dear Marcus, how insensitive of Caius and I to have been happy and fulfilled in our own duties and marriages, when you yourself have been suffering all the while! You stole no light to advocate for your own woes, and for that, I applaud you! A true saint among us!”
Marcus Volturi, if he were suffering severely at all, gave no sign nor indication hinting to it. As was usual for him, he was mentally isolated from the world, occupying the lone seat next to the window. His gaze was dark, dull, and blank.
Caius continued writing on his ledger.
Eventually, Aro stilled from his back-and-forth pacing. He pondered his thoughts out loud as they came, his arms moving airily around him. “Perhaps… a woman? An arranged marriage? A gala of bachelorettes will rouse you from this loneliness and inspire you to live again, I’m sure!”
Moving to his own table, Aro reached for some pieces of parchment and a fountain pen, writing off names of covens and nomads to near-frantic excitement.
Caius continued to hum and scribble to himself.
“What qualities do you suppose Marcus of the Volturi would look for in a woman?” Aro asked Caius’ way, offhandedly, listing off a new set of words in a separate piece of parchment. “Shall we tell the coven sires we are looking for someone haunting and… ultraquiet? Shall we have an honest audition for a ghost bride?” Aro giggled, appreciative of his own whimsy. “Or shall we impose the standards of good society and seek a lady of outstanding graciousness? Either way, Marcus would be most grateful.”
In the short, resulting silence, Caius remembered to provide an ambiguous sound of assent.
“Ahh, you are a great comfort to me, brother Caius, always providing sage companionship in support of our arduous endeavors!” Aro droned. “And oh! I shall call him myself! I suppose all is water under the bridge by now… How fortunate that I had not disposed of the contact card he had sent sixteen hundred years ago! I shall retrieve it, then instruct our new secretariat to send out the gala invitations to the names I’ve listed here… Oh, Carlisle surely will come… He could never resist a good cause…”
Only at the mention of Carlisle’s name did Caius pause. “...Who did you say?”
Caius looked up, only to be met with the sight of the double doors closing. Despite his penchant for flamboyant arrivals and monologues, Aro tended to exit with opposing subtlety to avoid being held accountable for his behavior.
At a loss, Caius turned to Marcus, brows furrowed. “What was Aro saying? Something about Carlisle?”
As vacant as he’d been the past two thousand years, Marcus said nothing, and looked on.