IT WAS MY JOB TO KEEP THINGS RUNNING IN THE CLOCKTOWER. Not really, I can't hype myself up and feel that important around here. For reality's sake I'll say that I do enough to prove I belong here as a secratary for the Volturi brothers.

For all that it was worth to anyone back home, I'd been a dear at organizing mail for anyone who asked it to be done. Now, it's my job to manage who gets what packages at what times, as well as get their letters from... I suppose their friends and other family members, there to them.

The walk from the mailbox to the rooms was a drag, I'll admit, but the process of sorting mail genuinely wanted to make me take a few days off every Saturday when I did it. The personal mail waited until then to be done, and it showed. Mail all over the desks at the library, with me over them, praying that a few would magically fly into the right pile.

I hope nobody walked in on me doing that. My scrunched up nose at the cursive would make anyone in this place laugh openly. I never did tell those men that my eyesight wasn't the best when it came to these things.

Marcus wouldn't care, I doubt he would.

Aro might not, he may give advice on whose it could be.

Caius would scowl at my inability to read. He'd probably call me illiterate. And I'd probably flip him off behind his back.

"This is literally the worst," I said as I grabbed another letter, one with a note at the bottom that I prayed would give some info as to whose this was. The name was made from some expensive ink, I'd reckon, and smeared. "Why can these people do the address clearly and not the fucking names. Who the hell do they think does the mail around here? Me, it's me, I do. Fuck me. Fuck me into next Tueday. I'll probably be done with this by Tuesday."

Besides ranting about my predicament, I did notice in small, barely legible handwriting, that whoever wrote this, "missed her, write more."

I wished he didn't write so often. Wished nobody wrote so often. Use a freaking phone, or a computer if you're feeling so inclined. These medieval letters that may as well have been shat on by carrier pidgeons were not my style whatsoever.

While I hated, and I mean hated, doing this, I had to open up the letter to figure out who had written it. I didn't want to, and I promised whoever wrote this internally that I'd only read the first part, which often read "dear-"

Never ask me how I know that. Okay- I'd done it a few times when in a similar situation. Sue me. I've always been too curious.

"Nows a better time than on Tuesday when I'm burnt out and disoriented," I reasoned as I carefully opened the letter with a spare letter opener I'd aquired from down the street, from a kind old couple who seemed worried when I'd said I'd been staying here as the Volturi brother's secretary.

"I have wanted your touch during our times apart, your sweet lips tasting like the sweetest young blood," I read aloud to myself, knowing nobody was in the Library to catch me. "Okay, that's fucking disgusting. Should the FBI be involved in this? Shit, except reading mail is illegal, isn't it? Damn, could have caught this guy. Seems like a wackjob, or a stalker."

Yet I read to the next paragraph, hoping I would find some mention of a name, "I wish to take you on the table next time- Woah, okay, buddy. I love your tongue on my- Good Lord! This is terrible. I hate this- cock. Athenodora..."

I trailed off for a moment, realizing exactly who this was meant for. What this piece of erotica was meant for. Athenodora Volturi, the wife of the one and only Caius Volturi, was being sent erotica. She wasn't just being sent it, she had a relationship with whoever sent it. By the handwriting, this wasn't Caius. Caius would have no need to send this nonsense. He lived with her, shared a room with her....

She was having an affair, and a heated one at that. One that had to have been going on a long time if there was to be a next time. This man had gotten bold, the two had gotten cocky- no puns intended- and gotten exposed on accident by a secretary who was just trying to deliver a message to the right address.

It really wasn't my place, and Athenodora would have my head if she saw the letter had been opened. But Caius had to see this, even if it would sour things between all four parties involved. He had to know, I would want to know. If I'd been cheated on, the last thing I'd want to find out would be that other people knew and never did anything. How unfair.

Yet I knew that if I told him, I'd be putting myself in a bad position. Caius, he and I don't have the best of relationships. He's apologized, I'll give him that, but... he does't feel authentic around me. There's still something wrong about him.

He's like a statue with a soul and piercing black eyes.

---

CARLISLE CULLEN HAD WAITED TOO LONG IN HIS HOPE THAT THINGS WOULD TIDE OVER. He'd been a fool for that, just like he'd been a fool for thinking that he and Aro could have a rational discussion like they did hundreds of years ago.

Aro was not thinking with his head, but rather, with his heart. A dangerous mix to unfurl onto a human girl who didn't know anything about vampires. He would shower her with affection, sure, but he couldn't be honest.

He wasn't being honest. That would shatter the illusion that Aro had created for himself.

Carlisle hadn't had any contact with Aro beyond that night. All of his hopes that things could be better had been shattered when news spread amongst the nomads that they'd heard whisperings between Volturi Gaurds of two humans in the castle kept for secretarial purposes, and that that didn't know vampires existed.

The vampire had to accept that River was going to be a vampire, that things were moving too fast for his liking. Carlisle still knew that her best interests were not to what he would have wanted for her. The vampires moved slow, but their proclivity for violence didn't.

River would be Queen, and the Kings had to tell her that so she could hone her power, use her words for good before someone manipulated her into doing the opposite. River could be made to believe the manipulated side of a story if she trusted the wrong person. She'd always been that way.

Words cause violence.

Gossip is sometimes real. Rarely, but on the odd occasion that it is, it is never the full, complete story.

Which is preciscely why Carlisle walked through the large wooden doors. The marble flooring under him clicked as he waltzed straight into Aro's office, the guards paying him no mind.

His friend and former lover was looking at a document on his desk, paying little mind to Carlisle's entrance. He did make a huffing noise, his pale fingers running across the paper as if he were a human being.

"Aro, I need to speak with you," Carlisle said, drawing a slow breath.

"You have yet to sit down on the seats I've provided," the other said nonchalantly.

"I'd prefer to stand." This had gotten the other vampire's attention. Carlisle sighed as Aro placed down his mess of paper. "I cannot allow for this to go on any longer."

Aro paused, stared Carlisle deep in the eyes and said without a second thought, "Which law do you want changed this time? I thought I combed through the rulebook and got out the ones you didn't like hundreds of years ago."

Carlisle was shocked. In fact, he was more than shocked. Carlisle was offended, something he didn't allow himself to be very often.

Nobody could get under his skin like Aro, though, and it was by no fault of either of them. They would be terrible friends otherwise.

"No laws," Carlisle choked out as he put his hand on the desk, bending over. "I am going to tell you this only once."

"Then tell me," Aro allowed.

"You are going to treat her right, not lie to her, be generous and open to her ideas, distract her from every pain and terror she has, and hold her like your life depends on it." Carlisle did not need to say her name as he continued, "You are going to tell her that you kill someone every Friday like a blaphemous Holy Ritual. You are going to get her through the guilt of it. You are going to hunt with her, because you are going to turn her. You will be the one to do it. And it will be done sooner rather than later."

"And why would I do as you so demand, Carlisle?" Aro retorted like a petulant child.

"Because people are talking. People love talking. If this gets back to your wife, you will not have a mate. You will have a corpse. A corpse that will destroy you, that will destroy my children, that will destroy me."

"How do you know that I wasn't already planning to do it? Huh, Carlisle? Do you think that I would allow my mate to become a corpse?" Aro was as loud as he could be without disturbing the entire Clocktower. "I am a King."

"And she is my student, the human I brought into my life to mentor. I am a doctor, and I was once your Minister. You haven't replaced me as that, have you? No, you have not, Aro, because you still see me as your voice of reason. You always say you will do things, but you allow yourself time. Time will get her killed."

"What could you do if I don't do it in your time frame?" Aro challenged with a hiss.

"I'll let everyone know why you really wanted the Children of the Moon dead."

Aro slowly shook his head, accepting defeat.