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In Volterra's twilight's gentle hues,
Four kings rule, their thrones diffuse.
Aro, Marcus, Caius, Mira's grace,
In Volturi's realm, a rare embrace.
A touch of life, a twist of fate, they called it. Not for a millenia, there has never been a fourth king, and yet for a decade there was.
Mathilde Mira Baudelaire, also very famously known as Mira Volturi, was a deadly creature. Now now let's not get ahead of ourselves.
Mathilde and Mira turned out to be two different people. Opposite of what they would be.
Mathilde was a girl ready to embrace womanhood, she was a princess, a shy, loving, nice princess.
Mira was ruthless, rude and absolutely unreachable.
That was until the man that made her king, turned his back on her.
Aro, the eldest, the most powerful out of all of them, the most respected, turned out to be an unwavering cunt, if we put it in Miras words.
For a decade they had worked together, lived together as partners and yet it was never enough for our dearest Aro. she knew very well Marcus and Caius felt the exact same way. And yet Mira knew they would never leave. But she had enough.
One feud led to another, and soon they had scream matches every afternoon. She was a vampire, she was a king, she was named king of the kings, Mira would not let a vampire with weird eyes hold her back. She wouldn't allow it. Mathilde Mira Baudelaire was given a chance to live for many times. And she had yet to live. What kind of a sappy tragedy was this? She wouldn't be surprised if all of a sudden a knight in a shining armour came to take her away and slay Aro, literally speaking.
The grandeur of Volterra's command room, as described in the worn pages of the book, provides the setting for a clash between Aro and Mira. Ancient tapestries adorn stone walls, and the flicker of candlelight plays upon their immortal faces.
Aro, the puppeteer king, sits upon a carved wooden throne, his fingers steepled in thought. Mira, regal and resolute, stands before him, her eyes betraying a depth of determination.
Aro felt as if someone stabbed him in the chest. "Mira, my dear, we stand on the precipice of something grand. Leaving now seems.... Not smart...
Mira met his gaze. Readying herself for this fight. "Aro, I've decided. I need to step away, at least for a while. This life— it's become a shadowed existence." Archaic tapestries seem to hold their breath.
