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The name announced to an explosion of whispers.

It was a known name, in a world with a long memory. The name was a legend, a myth, a warning. A hazard about what happens to the weak. To the meek who have no place in this world.

And its followers -- the name's fallen -- have never dared to touch this doorstep.

Edward's steps were not specifically slow or measured.

They were blank, bland, only the necessary locomotion that would bring him to the man standing in the middle of the gauche meeting hall. Before the trio of risen thrones which back lit him in golden frame. With his hands clasped together, staring down at him, entranced, as though through him as Edward made the walk, toward that hand held out.

"This is an unparalleled surprise."

Even the century of unmitigated hatred for the face before him hardly registered as feeling inside of Edward now. He said nothing, black eyes staring only, emptily, exhaustedly, at the hand extended toward him. As the murmurs rose and died away.

There was no choice in it. No saying no. The message was clear, even not in those fingers or on that face. The man before him would find a way, whether it looked congenial, or accidental, or had to be while he was held down under order.

It is his ticket to hell. To the release from one oblivion to another.
Edward reached out and took the infinitely, older hand in his.

His resolve for what he wants is solvent enough that he won't hesitate.

He won't break the grasp of the hand in his, won't react where a nausea that isn't physically possible crashes on him, won't look away from those red eyes, watching every precious memory and secret stolen from him in the hands of the worst devil he's ever heard of.

It is the greatest betrayal whatever he has in lieu of a soul might hold. Their lives. Their memories. Their secrets. Every single one of them. At his disposal. At his keeping. Their trust. Their faith. On the altar of the greatest malevolence that he might be granted one single thing he has left to want.

There are so many reasons those red eyes widen.
He sees them all. Carlisle. Himself. Alice. Jasper.
Power. Revenge. Intrigue. Amusement.

"Unparalleled indeed."

Even Milliways.

"What is, Aro? What does this boy want?"
The caustic voice of Caius, sitting canted in his chair.

They watched themselves, hands locked as one, in a loop of thought and memory flickering between them. And Aro smiled, enchanted and enthralled, more than rebuffed or concerned,

"He's come to request that we end his life."
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themidnightson: (Default)

March 2012

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