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AB Type

AKA The Greatest Story Ever Told, by the Greatest Historian of the World. Aro's lived, figuratively speaking, for three thousand years. Ever wonder what he's seen and done?


1. Ab Type, Loves

Rating 5/5   Word Count 1786   Review this Chapter

Boom, boom, ain't it great to be crazy?
Boom, boom, ain't it great to be crazy?

Giddy and foolish all day long,

Boom, Boom, ain't it great to be crazy?

AB Type
Aro Deofilion

Good evening.

Or morning or afternoon depending on what part of the world you’re in. I see you are waiting anxiously. Interested, are we? Of course, who wouldn’t be? The greatest story ever told, told by the greatest historian of them all. A story of contrasts, opposites, an antithesis. If I may, I’ll use blood as an example.

AB type.

Opposite yet fully fused to form a whole.

I love AB type blood. Reminds me oddly of, well, me. I am a study of contrasts. Wouldn’t it be ironic if I had been AB type while human? Even if I could remember my human years, I would not have known. These labels appeared very recently. At least to me it was very recently. To you it must feel like eons.

Or perhaps I am exaggerating. I have been so long disconnected from the brevity of human life; I have forgotten how different the concepts of time must be.

Ah, well.

Well, after you live three thousand years on this planet I dare you to come to me and tell me that the minutes and hours don’t just blur together. Not that you would dare, however. What is it that the other vampires say about us? Oh, right. “You don’t irritate the Volturi. Not unless you want to die.”

Frankly, I think that a far too morbid picture of us. As if we had no sense of humor! Well, Marcus certainly doesn’t and I worry about Caius at times. Adelina is the same as her mate only more self-centered and Anna can grow depressed very quickly but that’s not to say we don’t find certain…events comical.

Not to mention, it’s slander. First of all, only the powerful vampires (or the ones connected with the powerful vampires) are allowed an audience with us. We may be immortal but eternity doesn’t have enough time to listen to all of the vampire world’s petty squabbles. So the chances that a random vampire will simply show up before us challenging us to a staring contest and then declare that he’s not wearing underwear are basically nil.

Second, the title of “Volturi” only applies to Caius, Marcus, Adelina, Anna and I. And if someone were to break in and try to commit a stupidity (although breaking in is stupidity itself), the guard are more than capable of escorting the miscreants elsewhere. The guard likes to have fun. Jane especially loves to play.

Such a sweet child.

See? We’re not evil incarnate or unnecessarily cruel. All right so we’re sadists at times. Who isn’t? After living three thousand years you find few things surprising ergo few things are entertaining. In fact, the unbearable tedium grows until one must manufacture one’s entertainment. And let me tell you, stones are not much fun to manipulate. No, to truly play, one must manipulate objects capable of willful movement and proper thoughts. By proper, no, I do not mean I’m hungry. He/she looks good. Let’s hunt him/her. No, the toy must be capable of rational, intelligent thought.

Above all, your possible plaything must be able to experience passionate emotions.

Then, you get truly astounding reactions, of the kind that no author on the world has been able to put into words. Believe me, I’ve read most of everything worth the title of literature.

For example, let’s take a pair of lovers. They swear to love each other for eternity, kiss, caress, the whole shebang. Then, he notices that she seems to be too familiar with her friend(s). Or she sees how others fawn over him and how he seems to enjoy it.

Or both.

Those first stirrings of love metamorphose into something described by humans as more sinister. Envy.

Once again, I feel I must interject. This seems to me to be a case of—oh, what is that saying—the pot calling the kettle ‘black’. After all, what makes envy any more evil than love? Ask anyone who’s recently had their heart ripped out of their chest (metaphorically speaking) and they won’t be singing love’s praises. Ask the wife beaten almost to death by a husband whose actions were guided by love. As he will tell you, he loved her. Or the mother who killed herself from the pain of love after she lost her children. If I may be allowed to make an understatement, love hurts. So why is love considered good?

But I digress.

What was I telling you? Oh, yes, the lovers. So now one or both live under the impression that their life until that point was a lie and that the other is not quite what he/she appears.

I’ve seen this scenario a few times. I always make bets with myself to try and guess what Tristan and Isolde or Romeo and Juliet or Sybil and Dorian or whatever lovers I’m currently comparing them to will do. Sometimes, I infer correctly; others, I do not. It’s these others that are the interesting ones. It’s always refreshing to see a Sybil who refuses to commit suicide after being abandoned and instead hunts down Dorian to repay the pain he caused her.


And so lovers are reduced to killers, literally and metaphorically this time. From praising life to taking life. From comforting to hurting. An antithesis.

Pleasure derived from woe.

A paradoxical antithesis.

AB type sweetheart.

A study of contrasts, as I said before. If anything, we vampires are the very essence of contrasts in living form.

Of course, I use the word ‘living’ loosely.

In fact, the very idea of vampires begs a redefining of the word ‘living’. What does define life? A beating heart, functioning brain? The ability to move, to react to impulses? Bright eyes that in a moment can darken permanently?

Perhaps it is the ability to caress with words at one point and maim with those same words later. Perhaps it is the movement that drives one to grasp another’s hand because you know how they feel. Perhaps it is the existence of a soul.

But that would necessitate a definition of the word soul and I do not feel like getting into that now. Perhaps later, after all, I do have eternity.

That I don’t necessarily have eternity you say? Who will take my life from me, I ask you? Who is strong enough to challenge Aro Deofilion, one of the Volturi? You think that I can be fought back with a little water and a wooden figurine? That I will die from a branch thrown to my chest? You believe that with the threat of a little sunlight I will roll over into a coffin and whimper in fear?

That is rich. Do excuse me. I did not mean to laugh; the thought simply struck me as utterly hilarious.

Because I am Aro and you truly don’t want to hear me roar.

Ask the others who’ve heard it directed at them before.

Oh, you can’t.

They’re dead.

Not even my mate, who loves mocking others, dares infuriate me.

And we are talking about a woman who tried to kill Caius’ mate in front of him. To be fair, Anna was provoked but you’ve got to admire a vampire with the audacity (or stupidity) to attack a Volturi’s mate before said Volturi…and then have the diplomatic skills necessary to walk away later without a scratch.

Of course, she eventually had to use her lovely power in order to survive but that’s beside the point.

The point is that, just like Anna, I appear jolly and enthusiastic. Out of the three of my brothers, however, I have always been the most sadistic. It’s probably why Jane is so taken to me.

You don’t honestly believe we got where we are by handing out lollipops do you?

Then, how did we reach power? Oh, you wouldn’t be interested in that old story. The wars, the betrayals, the deaths…you read and see enough of those in your books and films.

Then again, I doubt you’ve ever heard of a story told by a vampire, a real vampire, one who has been alive for over three millennia.

Do forgive me for the liberal use of the word ‘alive’. However, there’s no other word I can use that fits the context. You’ll just have to bear with me I’m afraid.

…You truly do want to know about my life, don’t you? This is…surprising. I do so love surprises. Hmm, where would I begin? You see, no one has ever asked me tell my life story before. I’ve had other vampires ask me where I was born and how I first learned about my power, of course. But no one has ever asked me about my life, what I’ve seen, what I’ve heard, what I've learned. And with my power and perfect vampire memory, that’s a lot. It will be a long story. That much I can assure you. Whether it’s entertaining or life-changing or downright dull, however, will depend on the listener.

I’m excited now. A chance to reveal exactly who I am and teach others exactly what vampirism is. It’s not as terrible as some paint it to be. “Soulless demons” indeed. Supposedly we lack a soul; it’s why we have no reflection.

Did you hear that? You’re not supposed to exist.

No, this is the first time I speak to my reflection. Or, rather, not my reflection, since it is not supposed to exist.

Have I lost you yet? Good. Caius despises this particular quirk of mine. Which of course just makes me speak more nonsense in order to get a rise out of him. Even Anna, the most tolerant (with me at least), threw a settee at me once.

Everybody’s a critic.

Even you want to throw a settee at me. Well, good luck. My brothers and I have been in power for two and half thousand years and in that time no has been even close to taking our power from us. In fact, no vampire dares cross us now.

Over-rated? Weaklings? Wait…did you just say we have onion-skin?

That’s a new one. Don’t tell Adelina that or you will learn first-hand how cruel a Volturi can be.

Anyway, despite our “onion-skin”, we’re hardly pushovers.

Don’t believe me?

Very well then. I’ll tell you my story and let you come to your own conclusions.

I feel I have to warn you, there are many things that may not sit so well with you and those like you. After all, we do feed on humans. So long as you have no problem, I shall continue.

So sit down, make yourself comfortable. Listen to a story; the greatest story ever told, told by the greatest historian of them all. A story of contrasts, opposites, an antithesis. If I may be granted poetic license, I’ll use blood as an example, once again.

AB type, loves.

AB type.