The cracks of the Volterra court bled.

The feast's last body fell through the drain, the grate's copper blood-bright and stained. Crimson-tinted teeth and mouths were the last remaining evidence of savagery left on the guards while the Kings folded themselves onto their thrones. Their spotless, designer suits molded to their graceful forms.

Aro's soot-black waves fell to his shoulders, the side-part sharp to the left and brushed aside. He stared at the double, mahogany doors as Heidi swayed through them, a sigh on his red lips as he pictured the monotonous, changeless days ahead of their coven. When would something truly exciting happen?

He longed for intrigue besides the bloodshed and senseless wars Caius advocated for. There was no news of specimens to acquire, no talents to collect, no covens to eradicate, no laws to uphold on a large scale, and no politics to play.

His guards lined the throne room, statuesque in their stillness as they waited for a break in their routine or a command from either himself, Caius, or Marcus.

After some time, a knock resounded heavily against the wooden doors.

He no longer counted the hours or days, his sense of time blanched by thousands of years of existing.

"Ah, Sofia. Come in, cara," Aro said, "what news do you have for us today?"

"A visitor, Master Aro." Their newest secretary bowed as a familiar face followed behind them.

The familiar face of Ainsley Fields appeared at the doors, her sprite-like form thin and wan. His thoughts slowly unfolded with his memories of her. Ainsley was a white-haired, ungifted nomad from England that travelled the world to avoid notice from others. An unexpected face, but not exciting enough to staunch the wound of boredom permeating their coven.

"Ah, wonderful! Ainsley, a visit after quite some time." He clasped his hands together. "We have not seen you since Jane and Alec became one with our coven."

The nomad twitched, the scent of spilled nectar heavy on her nose.

"I'm here to report a crime," she said, "a rogue newborn, unknown sire, is close to revealing the secret in Vancouver, British Columbia."

"I see," he said and stood. He held out his hand. "May you do me the honour?"

She nodded and placed her hand in his. How dull her thoughts were; full of feeding and bloodlust common in nomads, relocation plans, and nothing else of interest outside of what brought her to their court. He parsed through the memories filling her mind; the news and the human investigation of public deaths which brought her here with his typical meticulousness. He ignored the trite discomfort presented in the back of her mind, a typical reaction when one offered up their tedious thoughts to him.

Aro released her hand and hummed under his breath.

How he missed Carlisle and his intricate patterns and honesty.

"I see," he said. "I insist you remain within the walls of Volterra until the matter is settled. Santiago, lead her to our prepared rooms. There are matters we must settle."

A newborn causing trouble somewhere in the American continents.

How uninspiring.

"Demetri, Felix, investigate the matter," Aro said, "bring the perpetrator here for trial or eliminate him if necessary. I doubt the matter is significant. Do as you please."

His execution team disappeared through the doors, his orders heeded.

Aro sat back down, the marble of his throne molded into his stone-hewn body and his idle fingers tapped the alabaster armrest and his unblinking, milk-glossed red eyes wandered. How he yearned for some form of excitement or entertainment among the predictable trials and tribulations of his court in Volterra.