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gwen-writes · 2 months

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The Fool

i was tagged by @purdledooturt to do WIP wednesday and here i am! i had the idea for a postgame ascended astarion fanfic, but with my own little twist, lol. here is the first chapter!

Summary: With no other options left to expend, Tav implemented a temporary solution. If the Vampire Lord could not be killed or saved, they would have to dull his strength - severely. And unfortunately, there is a ranger in Faerûn who is naive enough, kind enough, to feel bad for him.

Word count: 2.2k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Ranger!Female OC, but he's cursed to be a bat, because it's funny

The woods communicate, the soil must feel. Eyes etched into the bark of oaks, ears tucked into leaves. A hidden pact between the forest and wolves, roaches, beasts. It all sang to her, the tune that had been ingrained in her blood since birth. Pyryeva ran over her memories of lycanthropes in her head: the followers of Urdlen she had come across and slain, the petulant werecats clawing at her ankles in the defense of Shar, the wereboar who rammed into her tent and could not be convinced to just talk it out.

In fact, she often preferred to just convince creatures to leave - to stop harassing villages, or trampling beloved buildings. Other people found her a bit odd, something foreign and drifting behind her eyes that must have uneased acquaintances. But animals… understood. Scaled, hairy, or vicious, they paused to listen all the same.

And so this troop of lycanthropes, she prayed to Ilmater, would stop their ravaging and just listen. Her passing through the Wood of Sharp Teeth was meant to be swift, just a stop on her journey toward the Reaching Woods. The shreds of the High Moor Heroes’ Guild summoned her back home to Elturel, tearing her away from the outskirts of Candlekeep.

Candlekeep, she had once dreamed, would be the city where she finally became an academic, a scholar. Instead, she was promptly declined from every formal institution for her… well, there was a running list. Lack of foresight, short-term memory failure, lack of perception, lack of artistic strength. It took her around thirty minutes to realize that these tests were not actually a qualifier for entry through the Emerald Door, and instead the guards’ cruel way of mocking her.

Her exit from Candlekeep was bittersweet, but she knew that it would lead nowhere. As had many of her ventures - a poor attempt to be anything but a ranger with impressive aim. Politics slipped from her fingers before she even grasped it, an incomprehensible block of information that she could not register, let alone wield. Then there was fiction, song, welding. Fiction felt as though it was holding her mind and wringing it of all its joy, so she quit. Song tumbled from her mouth like a dreary scratching. She actually quite liked that hobby, but that time it was the protesting of her peers that willed her to leave it behind. Weapons were too heavy and domineering in her thin hands, fingers too fitted for a sleek bow to keep something formidable in her hold.

Embroidery stuck, her quick fingers weaving through fabric easily. That was enjoyable, for a while - the outstretched hands of Ilmater twined through her leather armor. And then, once her God had been preserved on all of her belongings, she was out of ideas. Nature was the next obvious option, but the badger she wanted for her gloves muddled into splotches in practice. The lovely frog for her blanket resembled more of wretched Grung.

Thus, Eltruel called to her, and she harkened back. Only the Wood of Sharp Teeth bisected her path home, and when the renowned storyteller Pallidor pleaded for her help against the plague of lycanthropes - was she meant to decline?

Werewolves, Pallidor had described them, cunning and volatile. They were still reeling from their loss alongside Grand Duke Valarken, though that man was long dead. She would have loved to live to see that battle. Pyryeva found humanity one of her greatest pleasures: their intense emotions, vulnerability, and courage lended themselves well to sex and gluttony, two of her favorite pastimes. However, she felt torn over the human lifespan. It was 1500 DR, the dawn of a new generation, and nothing exciting was happening. The monsters had been slain, most notably The Absolute. She loathed having not been a part of the “Heroes” troop. But she assured herself that she was meant to be alone, and meant to like it, and meant to give and give as Ilmater commanded.

As ridiculous as it may seem, she wished that new monsters would rise up in the coming years to give her a title of her own. Good things come to those who wait, as her scripture alleged. She smiled, padding along the damp forest floor, imagining beasts scurrying away under her command in exchange for heaps of gold.

Lycanthropes came in many forms: beautiful elven women or menacing orcs, their transformations ranging from a delicate swan to a dreadful wereserpent. Her awareness stirred, the woods calling out to her.

Deep musk, wiry fur tickling her fingers as if she was touching it freely.

The sight of her targets were just as she had pictured - goring, rabid werewolves. Like gnolls, but hopefully receptive to a little charisma. Curiously, though, their focus was completely rapt on the trees overhead, paws swiping at the air with no success. Had they taken it upon themselves to hunt a squirrel? Or a bird?

“Going after a squirrel? They’re defenseless,” Pyryeva watched them, like puppies chasing a toy. The pack of three whirled on her, snarling. The tallest one of the group ducked to all fours, lunging at her. The ranger’s nails dug into tree bark, crumbling under her force, as she leveraged herself atop the oak.

“I don’t want to shoot you, but I could,” The bow was already in position, an arrow tipped with silver aimed for his yellow, feral eyes. “I’m good at this. It’s kind of my job.”

He only responded with a grunt, before clawing his way up the base. Fine.

Blood squirted from his right eye socket, a dog yelp escaping his snout as he loosened his grip on the tree.

“Had enough?” She muttered, another arrow taut, suspended by her bow, immediately. The two lackeys in his wake deliberated amongst themselves, weighing the benefit of their previous prey with the supple-fleshed human hanging in a nearby tree. Apparently, Pyryeva was a better target.

“No way!” A huff escapes her as she hones her focus on one of her most consumptive spells, Speak with Plants. A waste in a battle so easily winnable such as this - as mother would scold - but Pyryeva was hired for her ability to win, not her ability to devise. The roots of the wide birch beneath the two lycanthropes rose from the dirt, entangling their massive paws.

“Your friends are trapped, and you’re about to be blind!” She called down to the leader. “Come out of your wolf forms, and talk to me!”

Instead, the werebeast opted to shake the oak with all his might, interrupting her balance. As a teenager, she despised when her instructors would force her to stand on one leg, books piled atop her head, for hours on end. Balance this, balance that. As if she had been training to join the circus, to tiptoe across rope. But it was as if novels depicting fairytales and wizard battles were resting on her skull, pressuring her to still.

“I don’t have to spare you, you know! I’ve just been hired to get your group to go away, and I’m trying to be kind!”

This wolf was relentless, yanking the arrow from his eye with a deep grunt.

“Damn you,” She hissed, her silver arrow heading for his throat, rather than another eye. The yellow of his iris was consumed by black, staring her down as he collapsed onto the leaves and soil. With a flick of her wrist, a swarm of pixies gathered around her frame, swirling down to the ground with her as she plummeted off of the tree.

The two final opponents stood, ankles beginning to look raw from the friction of their incessant wriggling.

“Will someone please just listen to me,” She panted. “I am Pyryeva. You are free to leave these woods - I will not harm you. All I ask for is peace.”

“And if you don’t give me peace, I will stick my pixies on you, and leave you for dead.”

The green fairies around her cheered with fanatic anticipation. No peace! No peace! No peace! Shrill giggles fell flat around the three of them, lost to the dank vines and stumps.

A burst of energy from the left side, dissipating to reveal a thin elven man with black curls. Pyryeva sighed with relief, ready to start speaking instead of threatening, but he offered her no such grace.

“We, the true lycanthropes of this realm, will not be outcast to other planes for any longer!” He bellowed. “Vehlarr will be restored in Faerûn! It must be done!”

Foam spilled from the corners of the right’s muzzle, teeth bared. Pyryeva gave them a long stare, waiting for the dam to break, waiting for them to see sense and reason with her. But when she studied the elf’s dark eyes, she found no such thing.

“Kill them,” She murmured softly, and the pixies whirled ahead. The ranger shut her eyes tightly, rushing away from the sight, leaving the desperate yelping of dogs behind.

That was, until, her neck was alight again; senses tingling and buzzing with… with nothing at all. Not nothing - it was all consuming, gnawing and starved. Blood sapped over hundreds of years, icy flesh, and then pure depravity. Women and men scattered across the floor, necks torn through. Whips, scars. And a heartbeat pounding, so loud it takes all of Pyryeva’s constitution not to keel over and sob.

Something rotten, something unholy and corrupt, something undead. Her instincts forced her to sprint, she was sure, to make quick work of the earth beneath her and vanish between the wood. And yet, when her eyes opened, that was not her view at all. A white bat was crumpled on the forest floor beneath her, and it reeked of undeath. But it was so… small. Fluffy. She knew that her senses had never been wrong, honed so particularly by her instructors that an error would never occur.

But she wasn’t in the habit of persecuting small creatures, no matter how undead they may be. A vampire bat, to be sure, but not one she couldn’t befriend. Pyryeva crouched, searching for visible wounds.

“You okay, little guy?” She cooed, and the white lids snapped open to reveal ruby eyes. In moments, it was latched onto her neck, stabbing through her flesh.

“Wha- Ow!” Pyryeva wrapped a fist around the little beast, ripping it from the wound. “You fucker! You fucking… fucker! Ow!”

It strained against her grasp, clawing at her thumb fiendishly.

“Let me go, you wench!” A deep voice emanated from the creature, so ironically demanding from such a cute face. Involuntarily, Pyryeva giggled.

“At least someone is talking to me today,” She flipped him upside down wordlessly, studying his form. “You’re so cute!”

“I will fucking destroy you, tear your muscle from bone!” His best attempt at a threat. She brought him a bit closer to her face, sniffing the air between them.

“You aren’t a normal bat,” She asserted.

“Well, aren’t you a scholar?” He spat, still wiggling in her hand.

“Vampire bat,” She ignored his slight toward her. “Are you here with the lycanthropes? The werewolves?”

“Those miscreants?” He hissed, offended. “Absolutely not.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Just flying by, of course,” The bat hummed.

“Well, I hope your travels are safe, little guy,” She smiled earnestly, lowering him to the ground and loosening her grasp.

“You are so trusting, little human,” He purred. “Who taught you to be so… docile? It’s fascinating.”

Somehow, he was animated when he spoke, one wing covering his chest as if scandalized.

“It’s just… how I am,” Pyryeva replied softly. She felt an inkling in the back of her skull - a warning that despite this bat being adorable and small, something devoid of soul hid inside. “I really should be going now. More werewolves to catch, and all.”

“Ah ah,” He corrected her. “You will be going nowhere at all.”

“What?” She stared down at him, now standing five and half feet taller than his tiny stature. His wings flapped, and he buzzed up to her face, meeting her gaze.

“My name is Astarion, and I have endured a terrible affliction, you see,” Astarion began, clearly preparing to delve into a story.

“Astarion? Like, "Hero of Baldur’s Gate Astarion?” Her voice was shrill. “Like, Vampire Lord Astarion?”

A killer. A shameless, overgrown child in the form of a handsome, elven man who had gone sick with power. Infamous for his parties and their gore, the feasting on innocents that he indulged in, day or night. The fearsome Vampire Lord who could not be stopped, no matter how many high ranking officials came knocking at his door. Their remains scattered through the streets - a demonstration - and a subsequent silence from the public.

He was corruption born from flesh, a demonic bastard who emerged from the fantastic defeat of the Absolute a vile, psychopathic monster.

“You are a scholar!” His red eyes beamed.

“I want nothing to do with you,” Malice twisted in her words, unlike her usual cadence.

“Oh, my dear, you want everything to do with me, because your sappy, frivolous God says so,” Astarion crooned, glaring at the symbol of Ilmater on her chest. “And if you don’t help me, I will transform and devour you.”

That was a bold-faced lie, of course. The reason he so desperately required her assistance is because he could not transform at all, not since last Uktar. And poor Pyryeva, not studied in her Baldurian literature or news, completely unaware of that fact.

She stumbled back from him, “You wouldn’t.”

Astarion laughed in her face, “Oh, I would.”

“What do you want from me?” Pyryeva forced out the words.

“Walk with me, dearest, and I will tell you the whole sordid tale.”

i tag @tequilya and @syoish for next week! <3 :)

#fanfiction #ao3 author #astarion #ascended astarion #ascension #astarion fic #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 companions #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate #fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic idea #wip wednesday

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

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Anymore general observations about differences between the JP and English fandoms?

[Referencing this post and this post!]

***Please note that the observations in this post are just that: personal observations. They are not, in any way, meant to reflect ALL individuals, and nor are they entirely accurate.

I am also not saying any difference necessarily makes one part of the fandom “better” or “worse” than another; I am only pointing out what differs between them.***

Well 🤔 besides the differences in character popularities, demographics (EN has younger fans, JP has older fans), and Yuusonas (EN tends to have more detailed ones, JP has more simple ones)…

JP fandom tends to “keep to itself” (that’s the best way I can describe it) or has different ways of expressing their enjoyment of TWST than EN. In the EN fandom, it’s not too uncommon to see several threads in all caps just screaming nonsensically about the story and the characters. From what I’ve seen, EN is a lot more overt, loud, and sometimes heavily sarcastic about communicating about their favorite (and least favorite) aspects of TWST. That’s not to say that JP fans don’t, but they’re more “quiet” or infrequent about it, or they’re more careful to denote (when they go on longer rambles) that they’re just joking.

This is true of Asian vs Western fandoms in general, but JP uses a tagging system to make it easier for fans to find content they like/want to see and/or to block content they dislike/don’t want to see. There are tags for characters, ships, type of content, etc. However, this is much less commonly done in EN, and there is significantly more confusion about how the tagging system works. Sometimes the tags get spammed to increase visibility even if they aren’t relevant or tags are unknowingly misused (usually due to the EN poster not knowing Japanese).

There is definitely more misinformation circulating in EN over JP; this is likely due to the language barrier and some mistranslations or localization choices fan translations or the EN game makes which fails to communicate the lore or the characters as the original does.

JP has much less judgment of content; if there’s something they don’t like (ie a character, a ship, a genre, etc) they block and move on. That’s what the tagging system exists for; so fans can readily avoid subject matter they dislike. In EN, I feel like it’s more common to openly renounce the content they disagree with and to even share that opinion with others (including strangers and people who hold opposing views). In other words, JP is more “find the content you like and enjoy that”, while EN is more “this content should cater to me”.

This may harken back to cultural differences I already mentioned in an older post, but JP fandom is more community oriented whereas EN fandom is more individualistic in their content creation; again, EN has a strong emphasis on personal Yuusonas and OCs, as well as churning out new content to match updates and/or to get the most attention. JP creators will make content to express their excitement for the game (ie fan art for birthdays, events, anniversaries, main story updates, etc), but there is much less of a “grind mindset”, and usually the content is general enough that fans of a particular character can still enjoy it (even without being invested in a particular OC or Yuusona; for example, Japanese Yuusonas tend to be eyeless or have “blank slate” personalities whereas non-Japanese Yuusonas are more “colorful” and unique overall).

The last major thing I’ve noticed involves shipping of the characters with each other and/or with OCs or Yuusonas. JP has much more BL (“boy’s love”/men loving men) content (especially involving shipping the canon characters with one another), whereas EN shipping is centered on heterosexual ships (usually involving a canon character being shipped with a female OC or Yuusona).

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst en #twisted wonderland en #canon x canon #disney twisted wonderland #notes from the writing raven #question

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mangaka-neko-chan · 11 months

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Happy Pride!

Felt right to draw my DT gang all together!

Context for the "BOOM". Benn has the mental capacity of a 10 year old who's ONLY interest is cars. Cars being guns and explosions. They found a solution tho~

#darktide #warhammer 40k #ogryn #psyker #zealot #veteran #oc moggy #oc harald #oc benn #oc harken #oc #pride #digital art #original art #m n c art

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gatheredfates · 2 months

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thank you so much for the kind words in the tags on my response to the single word prompt! i know it might not seem like a big thing but taking the time to do that really means a lot to me. as someone just starting out writing again after a loooooong time away (close to 10 years I think), it feels good to hear that my writing connected with someone. and it goes without saying, but thanks for the prompt thing too! it was a fun challenge and it really inspired me, so hopefully i'll catch the next one! -Artemis (aka @improvised-finish)

SDFGSDFKHG HELP THIS IS SO NICE I'M REALLY BAD AT COMPLIMENTS. @sailor-artemis

It might be a 'small' thing in the sense of like... yeah, it didn't take me long to pick and word and stuff, but it does harken to my overall philosophy and how I engage with the community: I want people to feel comfortable writing and sharing their work. I want to see how people explore their ocs, and see how their experiences, interests outlooks influence their writing. I hate the idea that people don't write because they're afraid of what people think or that people won't be interested and ignore it. I'm interested. I'll read anything. I think amateur work/roleplay is fascinating because you get so many experiences and that are not sanitised by what's popular or appealing to an algorithm. It's a messy, unfiltered, but it's also real.

I just... felt a bit honoured, honestly? I don't know how to explain it. It was validating that the prompt resonated with you and your oc to such a degree, especially when it's about her coming to terms with her womanhood. It felt very intimate/personal and I thought it was so special that you felt comfortable enough to explore that in this space (not to mention after the time away, you wouldn't have noticed with how good it was)!

It feels like a big thing to me if it helps people. I think that's the crux of it. I'm constantly blown away with the things people come up with. It's why I don't think I'll ever stop. I want people to feel like someone is in their corner and paying attention to the things they write/explore.

(Sidenote, I'll probably do another series of prompts this weekend because I'm insane but!!!)

#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea speaks #excuse me while i CRY #again!!!!!!!!

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anonymous-harpy · 9 months

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But wait- there's more!

#anonymous_h #dbz #dbz fandom #art #dragon ball #dbz ocs #frieza race #Anonymous_H Harken #Anonymous_H Harken MD.1A #More after the next chapter~!

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auspiciouscat · 3 months

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When the author takes your symbolic animal a little Too far 🏵🦌🏵

#enjoy faun harken everybody☆#ocs #harken #catd00dz

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jaycielantern · 10 months

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She's a tough guy! (Artfight link)

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #aasimar #barbarian #my art #my ocs #harken #angels #wings

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archoniluthradanar · 2 months

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Il Mio Cantante

Il mio Cantante - an Aro dei Volturi one-shot

Aro was fascinated by Edward's relationship with his blood singer, Bella Swan. Now he has found his own blood singer, who happens to be completely willing to fulfill his desire to drink from her, on one condition.

Aro dei Volturi X female OC, with Sulpicia dei Volturi

I was going to make this feature Caius but someone asked for more Aro, so ask and ye shall receive.

oooooooooo

Diana Walker entered the old castle along with thirty or fourty other tourists, she hadn't counted. Her solo vacation in Italy was proving to be a bore. She had wanted to visit places off the beaten path, but so far, she'd found nothing much of interest. So when she received a free invitation to tour the Palazzo dei Priori in the city of Volterra, Diana thought what the hell. If nothing else, she might see some interesting architecture and blow an afternoon before stopping somewhere for supper.

The tour guide urged everyone to follow her closely, but Diana decided to linger in back of the crowd. She ran her hands over the old stone walls dotted with lit sconces, and wondered why in this modern age they were even needed, but it lent to the atmosphere. She admired the old style chairs and wooden tables that were sitting here and there along the walls of the long corridor. The air itself smelled old, with an underlying scent of rotting something. Diana pondered why that would be.

Her uncle had once brought her to a slaughterhouse to purchase a pig for a luau he was holding for his work staff. She recalled while she waited, the nearly overpowering scent of fresh blood. Old blood smelled worse. Maybe the kitchen wasn't far away. In old times, people slaughtered their own animals for food, right? But would anyone be doing that these days?

Realizing she was falling behind the group, Diana ran ahead and saw them being led through large carved wooden doors into a small room that harkened back to medieval times. Her eyes caught men and women dressed in black suits and dresses standing along the walls as if waiting for something, while others sat on chairs that were raised about the main floor. She was looking around when the group was told to stop. There wasn't really anything of interest here. Maybe a history of the castle talk had been prepared for them. Diana chose to stand near a marble pillar in the back of the group to watch the ensuing program.

It was past time for lunch, and Diana's stomach agreed, rumbling a little too loudly as the woman at her left noticed and said, "I hope this tour is over soon too. I'm dying for some real Italian pasta."

Diana gave her a courtesy smile and went back to scanning the room. Her eyes were drawn to a man sitting on the center chair that was on a dais. He was so different in appearance from any man she'd known. He had shoulder-length black hair, and was dressed in an expensive-looking black suit, right down to the shirt and tie. His pallid face was expressionless as he himself seemed to be scanning the room. His eyes fell on Diana, his gaze so intense, she had to look away from him. When she looked back, Diana noticed his chin raised and mouth slightly open. Was he sniffing the air?

It was at this moment that an unspoken order was given, and an attack began on the tourists, who started screaming in confusion. Diana had no idea what was going on, but something inside her yelled 'Run!'. She moved back to the doors they had come through but found them locked. Spying another set of doors across the room, she stayed close to the wall as she headed toward them. She had to dodge several of the attackers holding individual tourists in their arms like lovers, but she saw their mouths were smeared with blood. She grabbed the handles of one of the doors, only to have her hand yanked from it by someone else's icy cold hand.

Looking up, Diana saw it was the man who had momentarily intrigued her. He pulled her closer to him, close enough she could feel his oddly cold breath on her cheek. His eyes, which were impossibly red in colour, gazed at her unblinking.

"Going somewhere, my dear?" he whispered into her ear loud enough to overcome the din the room. "I'm afraid that is not possible. Come with me quickly, or die here."

His words sounded like a threat, and they frightened her. She started to struggle against his hold on her wrist when he spoke again, his words harsh but hypnotic.

"You are my gift, my bountiful wine-press, so stop struggling!" When he had first met Bella Swan, Aro had discovered her being Edward Cullen's blood singer. Now he had found his own singer in this American tourist.

Diana briefly forgot her fear in her momentary shock. This man knew the Bram Stoker novel "Dracula", quoting from it. She ceased struggling once she realized she couldn't free herself from his tight grip as he dragged her from the chaotic scene in the room.

So everyone in her tour group was being killed by these psychopaths, while one held her captive. "All right, all right, I'll follow you." She looked up to see her captor slowly smile. He let go of her wrist, grabbing her hand instead, and forced her to follow close behind him down the corridor, until she protested he was going too fast.

"Ah yes, you're just a human, after all." With that, Aro threw her over his shoulder and ran down the corridor.

Despite her curiosity, Diana shut her eyes. When they stopped, she opened them as she was set down roughly to stand on the floor. What had he meant when he said she was "just a human", as if he were not.

The man pushed opened a set of wooden doors that led into a large ante-room. He pulled her inside and shut the doors. Glancing around, Diana noticed another room beyond this one.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on out there, and why you brought me here?" Diana took several steps backward until she felt a sofa up against the back of her legs, blocking her. She felt trapped, unable to run anywhere. Looking at the man who now had his back to her, ignoring her completely, she asked, "Who are you?"

After too many minutes, the dark-haired man turned back to face Diana. "I am Aro, leader of this coven, my dear. You arrived at meal time, unfortunately."

"Meal time," she echoed. Her mind recycled the images of the attack, the people in black holding onto the tourists, and the blood on their mouths. Vampires, she thought. Sitting down on the sofa, Diana felt safer with something behind her. This Aro could only attack her from one direction.

"So why did you pull me away and bring me here?"

"I sensed you out of all the others in the room." he said. "You are il mio cantante.

"Actually, I'm Diana Walker," she replied while making a face at Aro. "What does that mean anyway, mio cata...?"

"Il mio cantante. The truth is, you're my singer, the one whose blood calls to me. I brought you here to my chambers to enjoy you, privately."

"You what?" Enjoy her, he had said. Oh my god, was he actually talking about drinking her blood? Vampires didn't exist. These people were just a bunch of sicko murderers. She had to think of some way to stop him and his delusion. "You can't...please, let me go. I won't tell anyone, I swear." Her eyes widened as they searched the room for any weapon she could use.

Aro knew what she would be thinking, having read her already. "Don't consider fighting me. I'm too strong for you." He sat next to her on the sofa, his hand taking hers. "This is a special occasion, my dear. Don't spoil it. It's rare for us to find one's singer." He leaned into her, her blood scent filling his nostrils.

Diana put on a brave face, trying another tactic. She placed her free hand on his chest, leaning closer to him, and whispered as seductively as she could manage, "Aro, you can choose to kill me if you wish. But what if you could savor me, savor my blood, and more than once."

Curious, Aro asked, "What do you propose?"

She gazed into his now dark red eyes. "Keep me here with you, and every few days, take what you wish. Just keep me alive. I would only need time for my body to replenish itself. You can get what you need from other tourists. This would be like drinking a fine wine."

"What would you ask for in return?" Aro asked, leaning to within inches of her face.

Moving her head slowly away from Aro, she replied, "Nothing. I already owe you for saving my life from that massacre. Just let me stay here, with you, and in turn, you keep me entertained. That's all. I promise, i won't run away if you treat me well." It was a gamble she was taking, but would it work? Reaching up, Diana played with a strand of the vampire's silken black hair.

Aro was becoming more intrigued with this human female. It was true, he could drink his fill and kill her, or make use of her, as the infamous Bram Stoker Count Dracula had mentioned. A bountiful wine-press, taking his time enjoying her sweet life's blood. Prolonging the pleasure of sipping from her might be worth it.

"Why should I not just drink from you now?" he asked her, pondering whether having a human around who was not staff would be too much trouble.

Her eyes never wavered from his, her gaze a challenge. "Because then the story would be over, and we'd have nothing to look forward to."

Aro laughed. "You're right, my dear. Very well. You may stay here. I rarely use this room anyway. But do not leave without a guide to accompany you. Some of my people have little restraint."

Diana understood the warning. "Thanks," she replied, feeling a bit more confident that her life would not be drained away by this...vampire. At least not yet.

Aro reached out for Diana's hand, pulling her to him. "Before I leave you, one taste, my dear. Just to be sure."

Before she could utter one sound in protest, Aro was on her neck, his razor-sharp teeth in her flesh. She cried out in pain, the worst pain she had ever felt. So much for those vampire films that tell viewers, mostly women, that being bitten is an erotically pleasurable act.

Finally, the teeth were gone as quickly as they had bit. Aro sat up from his singer since she had fallen back on the bed in shock.

Diana reached up to touch her neck, seeing her fingertips a bit bloodied. "Why am I not bleeding more?"

Aro pulled her hand away from her neck. "Our venom can change you into what I am, once it enters your bloodstream."

Her eyes wide, Diana felt a sudden fight or flight feeling, mostly flight. Aro saw this.

"Not to worry, my dear. I removed the venom and healed your wound, sealing it when I licked your skin afterwards." Rising from the bed, Aro looked down at his human. "Get some rest now. You may feel weak for awhile. I will send someone with food later." He leaned over her, his hands on either side of her prone body, an enigmatuc smile on his face. "Thank you, Diana. You're right. This may be a most satisfactory arrangement. Sleep now." With that order given, Aro turned and left the human lying on his bed.

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Diana was sitting on Aro's sofa in the ante-room, a book on her lap. She had been about to read it, but her thoughts strayed to the trip Aro had taken her on three days ago. She looked over at the two bottles of very expensive wine sitting on the desk.

Aro had driven her to a very old family-owned winery, letting her choose what she wanted. When she asked if he wanted to taste something during their wine sipping, he had shaken his head. "I never drink...wine."

Diana laughed when she heard yet another quote of Count Dracula's. Show off, she had thought. He seemed to enjoy teasing her, and he was probably looking forward to his next taste of her blood.

Hearing the doors open, she looked up to see Aro entering, a beautiful, almost ethereal, woman at his side.

"Diana, I wanted to introduce you to my wife, Sulpicia. My dear, this is the human who apparently is my blood singer."

"You are so fortunate, Aro, to have found one after so long a time." Sulpicia floated over to a now-standing Diana and held out her hand.

Diana felt like she should curtsey, but merely shook the extended hand, finding it hard to the touch and very cold. The woman made her feel so inferior in her grace and appearance, she became tongue-tied. "I'm pleased to meet you...Lady Sulpicia."

Aro stood by while his wife examined the human. She reached out a hand to gently force Diana's chin upward.

"You're quite lovely, child."

"Thank you, but that isn't important. Aro isn't interested in me for anything but my blood." Diana didn't want Sulpicia to fear her husband might invite her to his bed for more than his periodic tasting. That was not in her own imaginings. Perhaps she should ask Aro for a separate room for as long as she would be remaining here.

"Of course, dear. I know what Aro wants from you since he told me about you," Sulpicia admitted.

"He told you?"

"Yes, we have no secrets between us, child. We've been together for many hundreds of years, so after so long a time, we know each other too well. There is no point in trying to hide anything." Her smile seemed to hold many pleasant memories, then she turned to Diana. "What do you plan to do as a distraction?"

Diana sat and shifted on the sofa to get comfortable. "Is there anything I can do for you, Lady Sulpicia? Do you play cards or chess? And of course, I love to read if you have anything to suggest. Aro said he'd let me use your vast library."

Sulpicia's face lit up. "I do love playing cards, just as my sister Athenodora does. So you will come visit us on occasion."

"Absolutely, and you have...a sister?"

"She's Caius' mate. I only call her sister because she is a vampire as well. We have a familial relationship here in the castle."

Diana shook her head slowly, saying, "I see. Well, anytime you and she wish to play games or just gossip, I would love to join you."

"That would be lovely. Enjoy your evening, child." With that, Sulpicia took Aro's extended hand, and the two left the room.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Over the next few weeks, Diana's life settled into an easy routine. Once a week, Aro would visit her in a bedroom he had given her, where they would talk or perhaps play chess, before Aro would sink his teeth into his singer's neck, taking just enough to satisfy him.

Diana was given iron pills and lots of spinach salad, something that made her roll her eyes. At the same time, she thought on the arrangement she'd made with the vampires, giving her blood to her host and spending time with his wife. The other vampires in the castle had little to do with her. Human workers brought her meals and freshly washed clothing.

Aro would offer to take her out and away from the castle, or sit with her in the garden. His guest proved to be an adept chess player, so they often played together.

Diana noticed he never let her far from his eyesight, but he did seem willing to explain the history of the Volturi to his singer, so she asked him lots of questions. Even as he entertained her, Diana wondered how much longer she would be able to tolerate being here. Her freedom was important to her, and she felt she was about to lose it.

When visiting Sulpicia and Athendora, Diana would ask about their long lives, alone and with their mates. In turn, Sulpicia asked what her husband was doing to keep Diana occupied.

The three woman got along well, a pleasant surprise to Aro. The two vampires would let Diana try on some of their gowns, while Diana picked up a few fashion magazines when Aro had take her to Rome for a shopping trip, whereupon the three women would admire what they liked about modern wear and laughed at what they found horrid.

Diana told Sulpicia about the day trips she and the vampire's mate took, sure to make it sound as innocuous as it was. Only once had Diana even thought of what a sexual relationship with Aro would be like. She immediately booted that idea from her mind. She liked Sulpicia, and would never entertain tempting her mate to cheat on her. But as the outings and talks with Aro become more frequent, Diana noticed a chilliness in the beautiful vampire's attitude toward her.

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Hearing the doors to Aro's ante-room open and close, Diana, who was sitting on a sofa, looked up to see her host's wife standing at her side. "Hello, Sulpicia. I'm still amazed at how gracefully you move," she said in admiration. "You're so beautiful."

"Thank you, dear. I just wanted to visit with you for awhile. How are you today?" the elegant vampire asked, her ruby eyes taking in the human female. She sat on the opposite end of the velvet sofa Diana was seated on. She noticed a small stack of books sitting next to her on the floor.

"It's fine," Diana explained. "Aro let me choose these books to look through. We must have been in the library for over two hours."

Sulpicia's eyes flashed angry briefly, too briefly for Diana to notice. "That's sweet," she said with no sincerity whatsoever. "So you are enjoying your time here with us?"

"It's been very interesting, I mean considering I never knew vampires really existed. And you're nothing like legend. No coffins, fear of garlic or sunlight burning you. No stench of the tomb. In fact, you all smell wonderful. That natural attractant Aro explained to me."

Sulpicia had wanted to speak to her mate about either drinking from Diana and ending this charade, or letting her leave. She genuinely liked the mortal woman, so never brought that subject up.

"Aro is nothing like what I imagined a vampire would be like."

"Oh? And how is that, child?" Sulpicia asked, her voice honeyed.

"He has been so generous. And in our many discussions, he has shown himself to be intelligent, creative, a true patron of the arts."

Diana didn't realize by praising the leader of the vampires, she was only making his mate more upset.

Flashing suddenly to Diana's side, Sulpicia's hand reached out, grabbing the human by the throat.

"Sulpicia..." Diana could barely squeak out the name. Her eyes wide in disbelief, she wondered in fear why the vampire was doing this to her. Had she not previously been kind to her? Hadn't they been having fun with the visits? "I thought we...were friends. Why would you...attack me? I've...never slept with Aro, I...swear." It was becoming too difficult to breathe now.

"I know that, dear. I just want what you took away from me. My husband's attentions."

"Are you...going to suck me...dry?" Diana felt it harder to breathe now, her words just sounds in the air, but Sulpicia understood her..

"No, Diana. Your blood belongs to Aro." With that, Sulpicia barely twisted her hand to hear the crack of the human's neck breaking.

Rising from the sofa, Sulpicia glanced at the human who now lay dead. She reached down for the book sitting on top of the stack, taking it in her hands. She flashed from Aro's rooms to return to her sanctuary in the tower. Perhaps the book would be of interest, diverting her at least until Aro came to visit her...once he found his little human lying dead in the library. He would be furious with his wife, of course, but he could never remain angry at her for long.

"He loves me, after all," Sulpicia said aloud, then opened the book and began to read.

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When he found out that Sulpicia had killed his singer, Aro was indeed angry with Sulpicia for what she had done, but she was his wife after all. It could be centuries before he would find another singer, but it had taken time for him to find and cultivate the perfect mate. And to him, she was perfect. But at the moment, his temper would express his anger at her.

When he found her in her chambers, Aro was beside himself. She stood, waiting for him to speak. But he didn't. He knew why she had killed the woman. Jealousy, not for his love and loyalty to her, but for his time. She had missed him since the human had been here. It had been wrong of him to spend so much time with the human.

Glaring at Sulpicia, Aro paced the space of her sitting room. He hoped his expression let Sulpicia know how disappointed he was with her. After a moment of silence, he reached up to caress his mate's smooth flawless cheek. "I do love you, wife."

"I know, my husband. And I am sorry."

Aro pulled Sulpicia to him, hugging her within the embrace of his arms. He kissed her deeply, remembering how he had come to love her in the first place. Aro would tell Felix to immediately dispose of Diana's body. Then the leader of the Volturi and his mate would head to the garden where he would choose the perfect bloom for his perfect mate. There would be other singers in the world, and he would wait patiently as he always had.

A/N : I had this story idea, thinking about Aro's jealousy over Edward having found a singer, Bella. Thank you for reading!

#the volturi #volturi fanfiction #aro volturi #OC-female #sulpicia volturi #blood singer

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