"What's the point of eternity without him?" As Augustus yelled, the Elder in his office snapped his mouth shut and backed up a step or two. Obviously trying to pull the older male from his isolation had backfired violently. He couldn't be surprised that this was the reaction he'd received, not given the circumstances that drove the progenitor of their clan here to begin with. The sound of glass shattering exploded in the room as the Disciple threw a crystal decanter through the window of his office instead of striking the other male, his golden eyes wild with grief. The beautiful stained glass pane obliterated outward, raining shards like diamonds onto the immaculately manicured lawn below.
"Augustus, keep your voice down. You need to calm yourself before the Anziani get here. They can't see you in this condition." The other's voice hissed, trying to sound firm yet the edge of fear was still evident. He had never seen Augustus like this and, while he understood the why, it still unnerved him. Especially when he was the one in the line of fire trying to soothe the beast that was deep, agonizing loss. The Disciple was disheveled, grey suit jacket and vest missing, the normally pressed white undershirt unbuttoned halfway, his tie partially undone, it was obvious from the wounded look in those golden orbs that he was inconsolable, broken, and unstable. He had shut everyone out for months since the tragedy but Amadeo knew that it couldn't go on. Someone had to try to reach him. So he had gathered up the guts to face the fire and tell him that the clan, no, the family needed him.
"Don't tell me to keep my voice down." He snapped, his tone filled with a cold, biting rage. "Answer my question. What's the point of what I have built and toiled for if what I hold most dear is destroyed by my own flesh and blood? Where is the purpose in any of it?" The volume of his voice as he spoke his next words tapered off at the end, no more than a whisper. The agony in his eyes like an endless sea. "I cannot live with this pain, Amadeo." He slammed his palms down on the desk, hanging his head between them with his shoulders raised. What was the point? His own child. THEIR child. Conspiring with the Cappadocians and now... the person he had chosen to share eternity with was dead. Gone as he knew him forever. His claws dug into the lacquered surface of the wood, images of the moment the world as he knew it shattered replaying in slow motion like a waking nightmare.
The door to the inner sanctum opening abruptly while the inner circle had been busy discussing the next moves for the clan as a whole. Heads raising and turning to look as the son of both males at the head of the council stepped through it cloaked in black and flanked by other cloaked figures, their faces obscured. But not his son. His son had made sure they could all see his face. So confident that he wouldn't fail in his attempt to wipe the council out completely. He wanted them to know it was him. The wraith attacked before any of them could react. So distracted by the interruption and the display before them that by the time Augustus heard the gasp to his left it was too late to stop it. That's when everything began to move slowly. His gaze sliding to the male at his side in time to see his mate look down at his own chest then back up. A horrified realization beginning to dawn across his beautiful face.
"Augustus.." His voice echoed softly in the Disciples ears, eyes frantically searching the others for answers before red began to blossom like a rose across the front of his vest and the wraith behind him pulled his heart out. As the initial shock retreated Augustus began to reach his hand out to grab for him but was violently shoved down by one of his own wraiths moments before a second had moved to attack the Disciple himself. This scene repeated on either side down the line. Some wraiths managing to save the Giovanni they were bound to and some failing completely. The wraiths began to attack one another in earnest as the infiltrators were targeted by estate wraiths and swarmed, all of them vanishing down into the catacombs while the remaining council stirred and began to recover. At that point Augustus had pulled himself over the edge of the council table and landed on the other side.
As his feet hit the ground time began to return to normal and he lost control of himself. Driven by cold, hard, rage he remembered crossing the floor, the sound of his shoes striking the stone and echoing around the silent chamber, everyone suddenly frozen as they watched. He remembered clearly the terror on his sons face in knowing how miserably he had failed. He also remembered the feeling of the traitors throat in his hands as he looked deeply into his eyes and squeezed. The eyes of a child he had once held in his arms, that his mate used to comfort when he was scared of the thunder, their first. One who held so much promise and brought them endless joy the day he was born. Now he was nothing. Augustus didn’t wince at the sound of the crunch as his childs throat collapsed beneath his fingers. Instead he ripped it out. The spray of blood speckling his suit as the male's body crumpled to the floor, catching fire and burning away like he had never existed at all. Final death. The cloaked figures scattered, chased after by the remaining council and destroyed. By the time Augustus turned back with the intention of returning to his mate's side there was nothing left but ash. There were no goodbyes. The man he had loved more deeply than any other was gone.
His hands slid to the edge of the desk where he dug his claws into the wood and, with a yell that shook the walls of his office, ripped the massive, ornately carved piece of furniture off the floor. He sent it flying across the room where it slammed into a bookcase and practically shattered. Pieces of the bookcase and desk littered the rug and marble before he rounded on the other male, his stride quick and aggressive. "Well? You have all the answers, don't you?" The tone accusatory, sharp canines glinting in the light of the fire, his presence brimming with hostility held back by a razor thin wire of will as he towered over the Elder. The shadows had erupted in chaos around the edges of their vision, the wraiths under his control frenzied by his hostility. "Tell me. Tell me how no-one saw this coming. How with all our eyes, our ears, and our influence that this was still able to happen. Someone had to know something."
Few times in his life and unlife had Amadeo ever been terrified but at this moment he was, deeply so. His gaze downcast, his body shaking slightly beneath the powerful rage of the Disciple, he searched for what to say, what answers he could possibly give that would placate the wounded ancient. He could feel it. The line. The line Augustus could easily cross that would make his fate no better than that of the desk now lying in ruins on a rug that cost more than he could calculate. He shook his head slowly, his mouth opening and closing as he desperately weighed his words and found them wanting one by one. Finally he managed. "I don't know sir. Your s-" Augustus's voice cut like a knife through the next word. "Don't say it. Don't say that word." The other male swallowed it, his eyes large as he looked up then quickly away toward the now shattered window.
"We were blindsided. No-one saw it coming. He kept everything close to the vest and as far as we can dig up he told no-one but the Cappadocians what his intentions were. It seems his goal was to kill you and..." He could feel the surge in anger and decided to skip over the obvious. "And take over the family which he would then hand back to the Cappadocians for... well that we aren't certain of. His motivations and whatever deal he made with the Capps has not been uncovered aside from some sort of promise of status or knowledge." Augustus seemed to reign in his anger, those gold eyes searching Amadeo's face before he sighed and placed a hand roughly on his shoulder. "Forgive me..." As Amadeo looked up at him in a mixture of surprise and confusion he instantly felt a weight in his chest. A deep sadness. The male had just lost his mate. With how closely gaurded Augustus was with his personal feelings sometimes it was easy for Amadeo to forget that he did have them. From the descriptions of his anguish by some of the council members who had returned in time to witness the Disciple as he realized that the man he loved was truly gone, well, there was little room for doubt. "I know this was beyond our control."
His face lifted to look past the Elder and into the distance, as though resigning himself to some unspoken understanding or truth. He turned and made his way to one of the beautiful armchairs by the fireplace, his tall frame falling into it, exhausted. His elbow lightly perched upon the arm rest as his hand slid across his face and his fingers massaged the space between his eyebrows. Amadeo was at a loss. He didn't know how to console someone like Augustus. He doubted anyone really could. As the Elder opened his mouth to try and say something, anything at all, small fingers curled around the doorframe to the Disciples office and a tiny face peered in. The wraiths eyeless face regarded Amadeo uneasily, half obscured by the wall itself as she made a small, quiet screech and vanished. Damn. The Anziani had begun to arrive. "Augustus I..." Amadeo began again, if not a bit more gently this time.
Augustus waved his free hand, dismissing the Elder's next words and silencing him. "I know. Take them to the conference room. Offer them whatever they want and apologize on my behalf. Tell them I was detained. I will be down presently." There was nothing left to say. Amadeo bowed deeply, still feeling the weight in the room but understanding there was little he could hope to do to ease it. At least it seemed he was going to finally break the isolation and return to his clan. "Yes, sir." He replied, his voice calm as he backed out and shut the large double doors on his way. Augustus stared into the fire, the beautiful gold of his eyes dancing in the light of the flames as he sat deep in thought.
What he wouldn't say, what he refused to say, is that he had resigned himself to feverish determination, not to simply shaking off his loss and returning to his aim of strengthening the clan. He couldnt bring himself to let it go, to let him go. He would get him back, no matter what the cost. Even if he had to sell his soul to Oblivion to do it. There had to be a way.