Blackest Hearts

Blackest Hearts Blackest Hearts

Status: Finished

Genre: Fan Fiction


Status: Finished

Genre: Fan Fiction


Jane and Alec Volturi have had black hearts long before their vampire days. But how did they get that way?


Jane and Alec Volturi have had black hearts long before their vampire days. But how did they get that way?

Chapter1 (v.1) - Blackest Hearts

Author Chapter Note

Jane and Alec Volturi have had black hearts long before their vampire days. But how did they get that way?

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: August 06, 2009

Reads: 775

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: August 06, 2009



A/N- I don’t own anything. I just always thought should have written something like “Wicked” that explains why Jane and Alec are so cold hearted. Review.

June 17th, 1656

Jane glanced at her mother out of the corner of her eye. Since her mother had become sick, Jane had watched her closely for any tell tale signs that the disease had further invaded her mother’s already sickly body.

Jane could sense an almost tangible weight bearing down on Emily Benton’s shoulders. Small creases rimmed her charcoal black eyes. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun, all that she could be bothered with in the mornings. Always a petite woman, Jane watched as her mother became more fleet, almost transparent, at the hands of a ruthless sickness.

Alec, her twin brother, seemed not to notice their slowly vanishing mother. At eight years old, Alec had become the man of the household, after their father had succumb to Smallpox in the early months of 1652. Four years later, Alec had a job as a laborer on a small farm a mile walk north. He was out of the house frequently, always scheming to earn more money.

As it was, the three of them lived in a one bedroom shack on the outskirts of London. Being the dead man’s widow had caused Emily to be something of a Pariah. Talk had spread of the woman who had nursed her sick husband, but had never contracted his deadly affliction. It seemed unnatural to the villagers. The word “witch” had been whispered over countless Sunday brunches.

Jane, however, sensed that her mother’s soul was slowly leaving her, misting away like fog, rising from the river. You only realized the fog was rising if you had noticed it had been there to begin with. Jane had always been very aware of her mother’s soul, so she could easily see it rising.

Turning her attention back to the fireplace, Jane began to trace crude letters into the ash. There had been no money to send the twins to school, but their mother had taught them elementary reading and writing from a discarded reader she had found abandoned in a rain puddle.

“Some spoiled child took this for granted, but now we will make use of it,” she had said, wiping the book off with a scrap of cloth from the rag bag. Emily wasn’t very educated herself, but she had a passion for learning. Jane had never loved her mother as much as she had the day Emily brought the reader home. Her proud mother, wiping off a book that would never be missed by it’s owner, as if it were a secret and precious treasure.

Jane heard the thud, and knew it was her mother’s frail body colliding with the earthen floor of the shack. She ran to her broken mother, cradling Emily’s limp body in her tiny hands. As Jane prayed to God to spare her mother, she became aware of her own insignificance. Her child hands were not big enough to carry the load she would be left, should her mother die now.

Please god. Save my mother. I haven’t the strength to take her place.

Her mother was still breathing, which gave Jane hope. There was still time. Carefully loosening her hold on her mother’s head, Jane retrieved a rag and went outside to soak it in a bucket they had to collect rain water.

She returned to her mother’s side, gently stroking her mother’s head with the cool rag, as she hummed a hymn. She knew if she could keep Emily alive until Alec got home, he would know what to do. Finishing the hymn, Jane squeezed her eyes closed, and prayed until she drifted off to sleep, on the floor, next to her dying mother’s body.


Jane woke disoriented and afraid. She had a sour feeling in her stomach and her head hurt. The crushing blow of realization almost knocked the breath from her lungs. Her mother. Where was her mother? Jane looked around wildly, peering into the darkness.

“Alec?” she cried out, the pain resonating through her tiny voice.

“Yes, dearest, I’m here. Mother is sleeping. She’s still alive.” He cradled Jane against his chest; a boy’s chest, a boy’s body, with a man’s calloused hands, and wisdom.

Jane was relieved, but knew her mother’s time grew short. There had been no doctor, there never would be. It was only a matter of when, not if.

Tears slid down her cheeks. The lose of her father had drained her emotionally. He was a good, decent man, and Jane had loved him. But compared to the loss of her mother, he may as well have been a stranger.

Please God, Jane prayed silently, give mother half of my soul. I know it isn’t much, but she can have it. Let her live. Let her continue being our mother.

Jane looked up at Alec trying in vain to see his face. She needed to see his eyes, to see if he was frightened. Jane always looked to see if Alec was frightened, before she formed her own opinion on what was scary. If he didn’t appear afraid, then Jane would follow his lead. She knew that tonight, his eyes were pivotal. If he was afraid they were all but doomed. If he looked hopeful, then Jane would be brave. If only she could see his face.

She tilted, taking Alec with her, attempting to use the glow from the fire in the sitting room to see his face. Before she could complete her maneuver she heard a tiny gasp coming from the far corner of the shared bedroom.

“Jane?” The pitiful voice called out.

“Yes mother I’m here. We’re here,” Jane answered clutching Alec’s hand.

“I love you both,” the words escaped Emily’s mouth in a single shallow breath. Then Jane’s mother drifted back into the world of her dreams.

© Copyright 2019 Tiadorna. All rights reserved.


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