Chapter Text
Immortal Children
1230, Volterra, Italy.
The fresh evening wind swept across the golden fields surrounding the small stone house where Cassandra and Lorenzo lived, far from the bustling streets of Volterra and the looming shadows of the Volturi Castle. The calm that blanketed the scene was deceptive; within it, storms raged that few mortals could comprehend. Lorenzo, the immortal child under her care, tossed a leather ball across the yard, his laughter ringing carefree, while Cassandra watched from the doorway, a faint smile playing on her lips. Caring for him was more than a responsibility—it was one of the few joys she truly cherished, a test of her will as a member of the Volturi guard. Each day, she reminded herself that her dedication was not only a duty but a reflection of the control and patience expected of her.
As the sun sank toward the horizon, the gold of the fields deepened into shadow. Lorenzo, with his boundless energy and effortless laughter, reminded Cassandra of someone she could never forget: Amari. Her mind drifted back to that turbulent time, when she had been in charge of another immortal child. Amari had been impossible to manage. Despite his sweetness, his tantrums could shatter walls, and every attempt to teach him control had failed. Cassandra and Alec had formed a deep bond with him, giving him the love and discipline he needed, but after two months, the situation became unbearable.
“Cassandra, love… you must be firm with your punishments towards Amari.” Alec had whispered then, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. “He feels everything deeply, and he needs guidance… or he will destroy himself.”
The masters, after lengthy deliberations, had decreed that Amari must be put down. She closed her eyes, recalling the day Aro had delivered the verdict. The grief of losing Amari still haunted her—the image of that seven-year-old child who would never grow etched painfully in her memory. She had wept silently while Alec maintained his composure, though she knew they both suffered deeply. To someone as close to an immortal child as she had been, the sensation of loss was like losing a beloved family member.
Years later, it was Demetri who brought Lorenzo to her. One night, after a long expedition, he arrived carrying the ten-year-old boy in his arms. Lorenzo was Italian, his dark eyes heavy with fear and sorrow. Cassandra approached cautiously, trying to earn his trust.
“He’s… difficult,” Demetri warned softly. “The woman who turned him… she didn’t care for consequences. She just wanted him transformed. The Volturi want us to watch him, see how he adjusts, and decide if his age made him… suitable. But you, Cassandra—you’re to care for him.”
Cassandra knelt, letting Lorenzo see her calm face. “I won’t hurt you,” she said gently. “I promise. I will help you, but you must let me.”
From that moment, a bond grew between Cassandra and Lorenzo. His energy, sometimes volatile, reminded her of her own human brother. Though he could be unpredictable, his tenderness melted her defenses. But there was a shadow in him, something dark and raw: jealousy. Unlike any other immortal child she had known, Lorenzo’s envy of Alec was palpable. Whenever Alec and Cassandra were together, Lorenzo’s gaze seethed with restrained fury.
Slowly, the child in her arms began to trust her, and over time, a bond grew. His energy, sometimes volatile, reminded her of her own human brother. Though he could be unpredictable, his tenderness melted her defenses. But there was a shadow in him, something dark and raw: jealousy. Unlike any other immortal child she had known, Lorenzo’s envy of Alec was palpable. Whenever Alec and Cassandra were together, Lorenzo’s gaze seethed with restrained fury.
“Why do you always go with him?” he asked one afternoon, small fists clenched. “Why can’t you stay with me instead?”
“Because Alec it's my husband, sweet child. And, we want to share some… private times alone, apart from the duties.” Cassandra replied softly, trying to hide the ache in her chest. “I'll come to you later, but sometimes grown-ups need to be on their own.”
He looked away, frustration shadowing his features, and she understood that the complexity of their relationship was testing them both.
One night, after a calm day, Cassandra left Lorenzo in another guard’s care and went hunting with Alec—a rare reprieve for them both. But Lorenzo could not bear their absence. Rage and jealousy coiled within him, driving him to follow silently. In a moonlit clearing, he struck against the couple.
“Cassandra!” Alec’s sharp command rang out, but it was too late. Lorenzo lunged, his strength uncontrolled, driven by an emotion she had never seen in a child before. Cassandra stumbled back, her instincts kicking in, trying to reason with him. Alec, on the other hand, he wanted to make his wife stop with his words to calm the little demon.
“Why won’t you stay with me?!” he shouted, his voice trembling with fury.
“Lorenzo, stop! You don’t understand—” she pleaded, but the words fell on deaf ears. His attack was wild, a storm of emotion and power she could scarcely contain.
"Don't be reasonable with him, Cass!" Alec said in Greek to prevent the boy from knowing his movements, as he moved in to knock him down. "Just stall him while I..."
But then Jane appeared from nowhere, her presence sudden and inevitable. In moments, it was over. Lorenzo’s body collapsed. His head was detached from his body in a matter of seconds. Jane later explained that she had a hunch about the boy, and as soon as Cassandra left him, she went to pay him a visit, only to find the guard dead and the mansion where they lived empty. Cassandra stood in stunned silence, staring at the child she had come to love. First Amari, now Lorenzo. It felt as if fate had conspired to make her lose every immortal child who touched her life.
Jane knelt beside her, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “I will take care of him,” she said quietly. “You cannot do this alone, not when grief clouds your judgment.”
Days later, as they prepared the pyre to destroy the remnants of Lorenzo’s creator, Cassandra’s thoughts returned to her first trial with the Sasha clan. The first time she had witnessed an immortal child and understood the danger they posed. Vasili, the child Sasha had turned, had been just as enchanting as Lorenzo, yet his fate had been sealed immediately. Sasha’s desperate cries echoed in Cassandra’s mind, pleading for the life of her child. The rest of the clan mourned when Aro delivered his judgment, though Sasha herself was spared. It was the first time Cassandra had seen the fatal charm these children held over their creators.
Now, as flames consumed the pyre, Cassandra’s resolve hardened like steel. No more indulgence. No more children lost to careless creation. The masters had agreed: no vampire could turn a child younger than thirteen or fourteen. Lorenzo’s death was the final tragedy, and Cassandra would see to it that it never happened again.
The silence of the evening pressed down as the fire crackled, and in Cassandra’s eyes, a new determination blazed. Never again.