1Marcus, Aro had decided a long time ago, was a pretty, broken doll.
His pretty broken doll. After all, Aro had been the one to make Marcus what he was, in all ways. Before him, Marcus had been nothing, merely a simple nineteen year old who knew little about the world. When Aro had changed him he had opened up a realm of possibilities to Marcus, changed the world for him. That time, it had been purposeful, seeing as he wanted the other with him. He wanted the foolish, beautiful boy with the dark hair and those perfect, perfect brown eyes to be with him for all eternity, for him to grow with Aro, to learn from Aro's mind. At the time, he admitted, it had been pure love with Marcus - he had been so young, so willing to learn, so willing to jump into his bed -
And then Aro had made Didyme. His reasoning had been simple: they were of the same blood and he had been transformed with a special ability. Perhaps they ran in the family when one was changed. And his sister did have an ability, though it was of no use to him: she had the ability to make everyone around her happy. Though she had no use in the Volturi, Aro decided to let her stay, seeing as he had created her and should take responsiblity. He brought her back to the holding in Volterra, and that, he realized, was his greatest mistake. For it was when he brought his sister to his home that she met Marcus and Marcus fell in love, and he was hopeless to stop his lover from crawling into his sister's bed. Aro watched with jealous eyes as the pair grew closer together, always whispering and giggling and kissing, either where thought he could not see or where he could see, though with a more reserved attitude. He grew furious when he learned that the two of them planned to run away and decided that something had to be changed. And that something was a simple thing: after all, when you subtracted one from three, the three became two again. It had been a simple decision to kill Didyme and, unlike what most people thought, Aro had made sure that Marcus saw every moment of it. It had been such fun: the night before he had carried out his plan he had summoned Marcus to his room, his expression calm, his face all smiles. He had tol the other that he was willing to give him his blessing for his journey but, "Please, dear one, just one last night together before you leave? One last time where we can be one before I must lose you?"
Marcus had not noticed how flippant he had sounded when he said lose him, as if Aro knew he would never lose him, and he never would. The boy had smiled and crawled into Aro's bed and into his lap and had kissed his lips, a willing invitation before pulling back and whispering, "I thank you, Aro. Your blessing means so much to me. You've given me this eternal life, and you have given me Didyme. Whenever boredom strikes either of us, we will have each other, and it is all thanks to you. You will always be beloved to me because of this."
The little speech had made Aro smile and he had pressed more kisses to Marcus's lips, his neck, slowing going down to more intimate parts of his skin. And through it all, Marcus had smiled, had joined him in the carnal act they performed, had loved it, and when they were to separate that morning, Aro called upon the other to wait. "I have another gift for you, my doll."
"Oh?" Marcus had questioned, curiousity lighting his features. "What is it?"
"A surprise." With those two words, the world ended for Marcus, for in through the bedroom door came the beautiful Didyme, dragged by two members of the Guard that protected the three main vampires and their wives. When he saw his beloved, Marcus made no connection. He had blinked and looked at Aro, and Aro was certain that if he could blush Marcus would be doing so. The bedsheets were rumpled and Aro was still mostly unclothed, having put on very little before beseeching his friend to halt. Then Marcus had turned to Didyme, his lips opening to speak, to perhaps apologize and explain himself but Aro held up a hand and bid him to stay quiet. Then he stood up from the bed and had smiled like an angel as he walked up to his sister, the picture of innocence. The guards moved away from their Master's sister and drifted over toward Marcus, grabbing his arms to stop him from moving, though he hadn't taken even the slightest step forward. He watched with red eyes as Aro moved forward and gently gripped his wife's chin, making her look up at him. He saw his brother-in-law smile sweetly, that small little smile he usually reserved for Marcus when they were together, alone, after a night in bed, discussing whatever came to mind. He watched, but he really didn't see, as Aro leaned his head forward, his hair making a screen to hide whatever he was doing from the world. He didn't see, but that didn't mean he couldn't hear. Aro was whispering to Didyme that it was all her fault that this was happening - but what was this? It finally clicked into place when the guards pulled his arms behind his back, forcing him to his knees. He's going to kill us for leaving.
Of course the other was going to kill them for leaving, simply because Aro did not like it when people disobeyed him. But, no, he wouldn't kill them, would he? Didyme was his flesh and blood - or at least formerly blood - and Marcus had an ability that he saw useful. Aro wouldn't kill them, simply out of morals. Right?
Wrong. Aro ordered for Marcus to be brought forward, made to kneel not two feet away from Aro. He watched as his brother-in-law and lover and his wife and lover looked at each other. He watched but heard nothing as Aro's lips moved, and he watched as Didyme's head was ripped off with such ease, he almost didn't notice it had happened.
Marcus snapped. He attempted to fight off the two guards holding him but they were newborns, vampires with extrordinary strength, and their hold on him would not relinquish, no matter what kind of struggles he put up. The male keened in agony when the rest of his beloved was torn apart, bit by bit, all by Aro, who did this so gently, so lovingly, one might think that it was romantic. It wasn't romantic in the least: it was a horrible thing, to watch another vampire be torn apart. The metalic screeching you would hear as the teeth of one vampire hit the other's skin would be enough to send shivers down the spine of a human (and of vampires, for they never wished to see one of their own kind murdered), and then there was the horrid oil-and-flower smell of the burning body, which would go up like tinder. It was the only way to kill their kind, after all: tear them to pieces and light them on fire. And to have it done to a mate, right in front of those vampire eyes, was enough to break the mind of anyone.
Marcus's mind had broken that day, by the time that Aro was through tearing his sister to pieces, by the time he threw them all into his grand fireplace and lit them up. If he could have cried he would have been, but for now all he could do was sob dryly, nothing to make them meaningful, because the most meaninful thing in his life was now gone. His arms wrapped around himself - and later he would question how he had gotten free or when the Guards had let him go - and he shook with sobs that were worthless, that wouldn't do anything, and then he was up and launching himself at the fire himself, willing to throw away everything in order to be with Didyme; he didn't want to live in a world without her, without the way she could make him laugh or the way she would sing, or the way she would always walk out into the sunlight in the court yard and hold out her hand to him, inviting her to join him in the warmth that matched her so well, and now he would return to that warmth-
He was knocked aside easily by the one vampire left in the room, the one who had committed this atrocity. Aro. Aro had killed Didyme. Right in front of Marcus. Marcus, who was wild with rage and willing to do whatever it took to get to his beloved. He snarled and lunged at Aro this time, teeth bared, his fingers hooked into what could only be considered claws and Aro smiled, he always smiled and knocked Marcus to the ground with ease, pinning his arms above his head, immobilizing his legs by sitting on them. And Marcus was left looking up at the man who had killed his wife, his beloved, and was forced to listen as Aro whispered, "She's dead, Marcus. She's dead because you wanted to go away with her. But now, my dear, you can stay with me. And you can be my pretty little doll again. My pretty, broken doll..."
Pretty, broken doll...
Marcus, Aro reflected now as he looked at the shell that his friend had become, sitting beside him on the throne, his beautiful face devoid of all emotion, was a pretty, pretty doll. His pretty broken doll. As all was meant to be.
As it would always be.
BB: Before you get any hints, no, I am not a Twi-hard. I am in fact an avid Anti. But even I can appreciate a good homosexual ship when I come across one. And I find it easy to sympathize with Marcus - he's willing to live with his grief then to let Aro's words forever get to him, yet he's still stuck as the "pretty, broken doll." Rather nice.
Best song to listen to while reading this: Give Me a Sign (Cover by Lauren King). It's a very nice song that describes this relationship.
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, nor any of the characters that I have borrowed from it to make this little fanfiction. I am quite glad of this fact: I would rather like to believe my writing is better than a whiny, young teenager. (Forgive me, snark was not required here, and yet it's so fun to write. Thank you for reading and review if you would like. Constructive critisism is welcome, flames are not.)