Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was supposed to be a promotion. 

A new job, with a new expensive wardrobe and a new suite on the beautifully built western side of the Abbey. It was supposed to be a step up. An upgrade. An opportunity to serve the Dark Lord like none you’d been offered before. That’s what everyone had told you. 

But this… this didn’t feel like a promotion. 

“I’m supposed to do what?!” 

Sister Imperator sighed and rolled her eyes. She’d clearly become exhausted by your never-ending barrage of questions.

“Sister, don’t make me repeat myself. I said after Papa has finished his meal you will undress.” 

The other sisters in the room hadn’t flinched when Imperator explained how things would work here in Papa’s private dining room. Although in their defense Imperator had rattled off your new to-do list like it was nothing more than a simple set of chores: set the table with the fine china, light the fireplace and black candles, serve Papa his meal from the kitchen, and then once he’d finished eating strip naked and offer yourself to him. 

Feed him then fuck him.

That was your new job. 

That’s what you were supposed to do.

“Well what if we don’t want to ‘offer ourselves’ to Papa?’” You said adding a pair of finger quotes for good measure.

“Seriously?” One of your sisters asked while the rest looked at you like you had seven heads. 

You wondered then if everyone else knew what to expect because no one mentioned to you that you were going to have to fuck Papa sideways after his afternoon tea and finger sandwiches. You were pretty sure you’d remember something like that. 

“This is part of your duty Sister. Unless of course, you would rather be somewhere else,” Imperator spoke nonchalantly with the wave of her manicured nails. “I can arrange for you to return to the gardens if you’d like.” 

“No, no.” You shot back. “I don’t want that.” 

It wasn’t that you had anything against Primo or the lovely earth ghouls who worked in the greenhouse but gardening, plants, digging around in the dirt… those weren’t your things. You’d hoped to be placed in the library when you were first informed of your promotion to Imperatrix. Getting lost in the countless books, hiding away in one of the library’s many corners, and reading in front of one of the large marble fireplaces sounded practically godlike to you. Plus you doubted the sisters who worked there were expected to bend over for Papa after putting away texts and tomes all day. 

“Okay well then sisters,” Imperator started, clasping her hands together, “you are all dismissed. Present yourselves to the kitchen staff at 6:00 o’clock sharp. Do not be late. The kitchen will inform you of tonight’s meal and then you may begin to prepare the dining room accordingly. Any more questions?” 

Any more questions? You had a million fucking questions. But the look in Imperator's eye quieted you. It was better not to ask them. You’d rather not piss her off any further or else you’d end up on her shit list and somewhere truly awful like Nihil’s office. One by one your fellow sisters filed out of the dining room, laughing and joking about god knows what. You were truly too zoned out to care. You turned to follow them into the hall, but a hand reached out and grabbed you, pulling you back into the dim dining room.

“Hold on sister, let’s talk.” 

Imperator's cherry-red nails dug into your skin and she spun you around, offering you a weak smile, her thin lips spread and the corners of her eyes crinkled. She led you to a thickly cushioned chair before the roaring fire and motioned for you to sit. You obliged and she pulled a chair from the table to sit beside you.  

“I want you to answer me truthfully. You will not be punished for anything you say during this conversation. Do you understand?” You nodded and Imperator reached forward to pat your forearm much like a teacher would congratulate a mischievous child for finally falling in line. “That’s good, dear. Now let’s get to the bottom of this. Are you embarrassed to take your clothes off?” 

If you had been drinking you would have spat in Imperator's face. “No. No. Definitely not.” You loved your body, imperfections and all. 

One of Sister Imperators eyebrow’s cocked to the heavens. “You’re a virgin then?” 

“What?! No.” You were many things, but even then a virgin wasn’t one. 

“Are you scared he won’t be… gentle?”

You eyed Imperator at her careful choice of words. It was common knowledge amongst everyone in the Abbey that Secondo liked to party and since his ascension tales of his exploits had only grown more and more wild. Lately, it was becoming harder to separate rumors from truth, but the ghouls had told you what he was like on tour. Multiple women every day. Brothers too. Half a dozen bodies warming his bed each night like clockwork. Almost all walked or limped away covered in marbling black and blue bruises, their skin looking more like Jackson Pollock paintings than naturally colored flesh. 

“No, that’s not it,” you answered truthfully. 

“Then what is it, sister? Help me understand.” 

Imperator asked you to be honest, but you wondered if there was a line hidden somewhere in the sand. Could you really speak ill of a Papa and get away with it? 

You turned your head and looked at the tall grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Like everything in the church, it was beautifully ornate bordering on ostentatious. Intricate depictions of dark angels were carved into dark mahogany and inlaid with bits of 18 carrot gold. The fallen angels' wings pointed upward toward an onyx statue of Baphomet, who perched like a gargoyle on top of the clock and stared down at you with ruby eyes. The second hand ticked and ticked. You watched as it passed the twelve and continued onward like Sisyphus in his incessant journey. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

How long could you sit in silence before Imperator would ask a ghoul to carry you to the infirmary for a psych eval? A few minutes? An hour? An eternity? 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

Imperator tapped her clawed finger against her chair. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Your time was up. 

“Sister,” she said squeezing your arm. You looked back into her hazel eyes. They were gentler and kinder than they had been before. It was… surprising. 

It wasn’t often Sister Imperator softened. Running the church wasn’t an easy task and over the years You’d seen her hold things together with tenacity, strength, and the occasional iron fist. It still gave you chills thinking about the first time she’d turned her fury your way. It’d happened during a particularly rowdy Lupercalia festival years ago. You’d challenged Mountain to a drinking contest but it was still early days in the church for you and none of the ghouls had bothered to mention their tolerance was insurmountable higher than humans. You’d ended up wasted before the first bonfire was even lit. 

The night ended after Imperator found you emptying your stomach down the front of a statue in the main courtyard. You vaguely remember she hadn’t cared that it was Dew’s idea to climb the stupid thing. But what you do remember was all the screaming she’d done when you broke off a small piece of Lilith’s marble nose on your clumsy descent. 

But right now the angry fire that was always hidden inside of Imperator wasn’t aimed in your direction. Right now she was offering you something else. Pity? Sadness? Sympathy? It was hard to tell exactly what was behind Imperator's eyes… but whatever she was aiming in your direction it left you with a sour feeling deep in your stomach. 

Imperator called your name and the uneasy feeling only worsened, “Tell me sister why don’t you want this?” 

“I’m just not interested in doing that… with him.”

It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t exactly the whole truth either. You’d never say this to a member of the high clergy but the only thing you really wanted to do with Secondo was smack him upside his bald-headed ass. 

“You know sex with a Papa is an honor?” Sister Imperator said, finally letting go of your arm and sitting back in her chair with a sigh. “Of course, no one will ever force you to do anything you are uncomfortable with but you should know many of your sisters would love to be in this position.” 

“I know that and I am grateful,” you lied. “Is there something else I can do? Can I help in the kitchens or the classrooms? I can do secretarial work if any of the Cardinals need an extra hand. My Latin isn’t great but I’m a decent typist. Or I could help in the choir. I don’t know if they need help but I’m sure I could make myself useful. If you think that’s a good idea of course. If you don’t agree then never mind. I can do whatever for whoever.” 

You were rambling. Panicking. 

You didn’t want to offer the greenhouse, but maybe this was the moment you should? Primo was nice enough and even though Mountain wasn’t your drinking buddy anymore he was still your friend. You wouldn’t thrive but you could survive. Thankfully Imperator spoke again before the landslide that was tumbling inside your brain could spew any further out your mouth. 

“For now sister you will help the others prepare Papa’s meals. After he’s eaten you can excuse yourself. You will wait until he has left the dining room and then you may clean up with the others. Does that sound alright?” 

“Yes, Sister. Thank you, Sister.” 

You bowed and dismissed yourself before Imperator could ask you any more embarrassing questions. If you hadn’t felt her eyes piercing the back of your head as you walked away you would have run out of that room and sprinted across the front lawn and into the woods until your head was as clear as the sky.

But you couldn’t do that. 

You weren’t a junior Sister of Sin anymore. 

You were an Imperatrix now. You had to follow some rules. 

You wandered through the halls of the Abbey until you found the office of Cardinal Terzo. 

Unlike his older brother, you didn’t have any issues with the third Emeritus. His flirting was fun and harmless and he had a wicked sense of humor. There’d been a time when you’d thought a night in his bed might be fun but Terzo was a bit too much drama for you in the end. His highs were high, but his lows… well for a grown man he could certainly throw a temper tantrum. 

It was fitting that before you reached his door you heard his voice. He was singing along with an opera song, something sad and moody tinged in a haunting darkness that seemed to breathe into everything within the Abbey’s walls. Your Italian was shit, but you guessed from the way he was lamenting the song had something to do with a lost lover. It was beautiful. You smiled to no one but the portraits in the hall. Terzo might be a drama queen but fucking hell could he sing like a fallen angel. If you hadn’t come here with a mission you would have sat down in the hall and listened for as long as he sang. But duty called. 

“Cardinal,” you shouted, banging loudly on his door. “Cardinal Terzo?! Sister Imperator sent me.” 

“Bella!” Terzo flung open the door and dramatically wrapped you in his arms, swinging you around the room in an airtight waltz. “Dance with me, bella.” You both laughed as Terzo dipped you dangerously close to the floor. An old record player in the corner of the room spun, continuing the song Terzo had sung.

“Mia cara, you are here for the keys to your new suite, no?” 

“Yes, Cardinal,” you answered as he brought you back to your feet and kissed your hand. 

“We must celebrate then! Today is a big day for you.” Terzo let you go and moved behind his large desk in the center of the room. He opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of brown-colored liquor, waggling his eyebrows playfully at you as he held it up.

“This whiskey is a personal favorite Sorella,” Terzo said pulling two crystal glasses from the same drawer before pouring the liquor and filling each glass nearly to the top. “It’s smooth, rich, and warms your insides. I find it’s a crowd favorite. Not unlike your favorite Cardinal, no?” Terzo winked at you with a devilish smile on his lips. “Would you like a taste?” 

Tuesday at noon seemed like a great time for a whiskey right? Fuck it. You’d earned this, plus you had hours before you needed to be back in Papa’s dining room. 

“Sure why not,” you answered, taking a step closer to Terzo. 

“To the drink… or to me cara?” 

“Just the drink Cardinal.” 

What is it about alcohol that makes time move fucking sideways? Is it the ethanol disrupting pathways in your brain? Or is it the company you keep while downing an entire bottle of whiskey in the middle of the afternoon? Either way, the sun was lower and your spirits were higher when you finally stumbled out of Terzo’s office. 

Two hundred and twenty-four. 

You stared at the emerald green numbered etched into the door. Two hundred and twenty-four. This was your new home. You pulled out the brass key Cardinal Terzo had given you and slid it into the slot. The massive wooden door gave way with a heavy push. 

If the halls on this side of the Abbey were as beautiful as a painting, then your room was the goddamn Louvre. Every inch of your new space was so gorgeous it was practically dripping in an ostentatious opulence that the Dark Lord would be proud of. Vaulted ceilings gave way to arched windows framed in dark rich wood. The same deep brown also made up a large four-poster bed in the center of the room and to the left of your unbelievably comfy-looking bed, two plush and tufted armchairs faced a black marble fireplace. On the other side of the room, a massive armoire towered next to a set of wooden double doors. You squealed as you ungracefully tripped over the threshold and rushed toward the doors. 

“What’s behind door number one,” you giggled as you threw open the doors with a flourish. 

Your jaw dropped. 

“Fuck me, Satan…” 

Inside was your bathroom. Your glorious, beautiful, and perfect private bathroom. 

Dark emerald tiles stretched from the floor and crawled up the high bowed walls like ivy. In the center of the room, a clawfoot tub begged you to forget about your duties and soak until you became a pruny mess. A black marble vanity ran the room's length and another fireplace cemented itself across from a set of floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Everything was bathed in a pretty orange glow as the sun streamed in through a trio of gothic windows. 

A smile crept across your face. 

If this morning Imperator had tossed you into a hole, and this afternoon Terzo lifted you out, then this room, in all of its glory, helped set you free. It gave you a pair of wings and let you fly. You felt lightheaded and happier than you’d been in a long time. All of this was yours. Silk sheets, marble fireplaces, porcelain tub, all of it was yours just to serve a bitter bald man some steak and potatoes.

“Ya know if Satan won’t fuck ya I will.” You nearly jumped out of your skin before whipping around to see Mountain posted up smugly in the doorway. 

“Jesus fucking Christ Mountain! What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Well, I came to say hi and see your new place. But now I’m thinking I might take a bath in that tub right there. This place is pretty nice.” Mountain ran his clawed finger over your marble countertop. “You sure it’s yours?” 

You smiled at Mountain. While the large ghoul had been on the quiet side when you first met him ages ago, he’d opened up like one of Primo’s flowers in spring since then. He was kind and patient, traits all earth ghouls seemed to share, but he was also funny and sarcastic. You loved that most about him. 

“Very funny,” you said striding up to Mountain and punching him playfully in his broad shoulder. “You live in a den underground. What do you know about nice? A shoe box would look nice to you.” 

“Ooooo she becomes an Imperatrix and suddenly she’s sassyyyyy.” 

"Yeah. Yeah," you murmered, walking past Mountain back into the main chamber of your suite. He followed your trail like the giant Saint Bernard he was. 

“You nervous about tonight?”

You jumped up onto your bed and let your feet dangle over the edge. 

“I told Imperator I didn’t want the job.” 

Mountain raised an eyebrow, “Why would you say that?”

“Because I don’t, Mountain.” You hopped off the bed and paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. “Maybe I’m not like everyone else.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m just... I'm not desperately trying to sleep with an Emeritus.” 

“I’m guessing you didn’t say it like that to Imperator,” Mountain eyes stayed on you watching you sympathetically, as you wore a hole in the finely polished floor. 

“No. I didn’t. She’s letting me keep the job for now though. Minus the fucking I guess.” 

“So you get all this,” Mountain motioned around your room, “just to be a waitress?” 

“Guess so.” 

Mountain paused for a moment and you turned to face him. He looked stunned. Brow wrinkling. Hands plunged deep into his brown curly hair. “That’s… that’s surprising.” 

“Why?” 

“Well despite living underground I do know some things Sister and one of the things I know is that Papa Secondo gave you the nicest suite in the Abbey.” 

“What!?” 

You knew that assigning Imperatrixs their new wardrobe and housing was under the discretion of the Papa in charge. That’s why you weren’t surprised to see emerald color sheets and tiles in your suite. But why would Secondo give you the best room? Did he forget what happened between you all those nights ago? This couldn’t be right. Mountain must have been mistaken. This had to be some type of ill-informed gossip swapped over half a dozen drinks in the ghoul dens. This was the kind of nonsense you had just spent the last few hours yapping on about with Terzo. Nonsense. Nothing more. 

“How do you know that? Who said that?” 

“Primo.” 

Fuck. Primo didn’t gossip. Primo barely talked to anyone but his plants. This wasn't nonsense.  

“That’s how I knew which room was yours. He told me this was your new place. He also told me this was where he kept his most favorite Imperatrix when he was Papa.” 

“Really?”

“Really really.” 

“Fuck.” 

Standing in Papa’s dining room you felt dumb. Really, really dumb. Like a box of rocks, four cents short of a nickel, got into the gene pool when the lifeguard wasn't watching… dumb. 

At last night's ceremony, when it was announced six new sisters would serve in Papa’s dining room, you hadn’t thought much of the number. You’d just accepted it as a normal thing… six sisters feeding one Papa. Sure. Fine. Whatever. Weirder things happened in the church. Truthfully, you were just excited that you wouldn’t have to use the mildewy communal showers anymore. But now, standing in Papa Secondo’s dining room with your five fellow sisters you realized you should have known the ministry would want you to be more than just a waitress. Papa didn't need this many people to prep and serve his meals. It wasn’t like he needed twelve hands to lay down a single set of silverware and yeah there were a lot of candles to light, and his meal consisted of several courses, but this wasn’t hard work. The six of you had finished Imperator’s lengthy checklist in a matter of minutes. God, you felt so dumb.

With nothing left to do but wait for Secondo you found a chair by the fire and plopped down. The grand clock in the corner ticked and ticked. The rest of your sisters found other places around the room to perch. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

“Do you think he’s going to want all of us tonight? Like at once?” A shy voice asked.

It was Sister Rose who broke the silence. Like the rest of the women in the room, Rose was gorgeous. She had long black hair that cascaded effortlessly past her shoulders and down her back, her green eyes resembled the color of Secondo’s formal robes, and she always smelt like sweet vanilla and honey. Someday you really should ask her where she got her perfume. 

“I don’t know,” Sister Katherina said hopping off the buffet table. “But I hope he picks me. He slept with my old roommate, Lionara once and she still hasn’t shut up about it. Mind you that was two years ago and she’s fucked half the clergy since then.” 

If Sister Rose, was beautiful like the night, with dark hair and dark eyes, then Sister Katherina was pretty like the sun. She had blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and was sweet as sugar. You’d often seen her with the siblings in the bakery, whipping up sweet treats with her trademark wide smile. You weren’t friends with many siblings, you preferred the comfort of ghouls, but you could see why so many people liked Katherine. Like sunshine she was easy to like. 

“Eh, no offense Katey, but Lionara wouldn’t know good dick if it slapped her in the face. Besides I have a feeling he’s only taking one of us tonight. So I wouldn’t worry if I were you.” 

You rolled your eyes at Sister Luciana's words. Like both Rose and Katherina, Sister Luciana was stunning. But unfortunately for everyone on the planet, Luciana knew that. How she found anyone to put up with her attitude was beyond you, but for some reason the brothers all lined up to grovel at her feet like she was Lilith incarnate. Luciana was proof that apparently, you can have an ego the size of Mount Everest and still get laid. It shouldn't have been a surprise she’d assume Papa would fuck her first. 

You were about to defend Katherina when the clock chimed… one, two, three, four, five, six, seven times. On the final note, the door opened and he appeared. 

Papa Secondo Emeritus was a tall man. In every room he entered, he towered over everyone and everything. You wouldn’t mind his height, you liked a tall man… or ghoul, but Papa’s looming height combined with the intensity of his permanent scowl made people feel small. Siblings hid from him when he strolled down the halls and his confessionals were as sparsely attended as the 9:00 am weekend masses. 

You weren’t much different from the rest. You never felt warm and fuzzy around Secondo like you did the Ghouls or his brothers. But if you were a betting sister, you’d wager he liked it that way. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d never smiled before in his life. His face was probably incapable of it. And you’d sure as fuck never heard him laugh. Everything was always so serious with Secondo. “We must put Satan first” this… “we must be conduits for him” that. You’d think for a dude who fucked so much he’d be less uptight. But that wasn’t Secondo. He was as bitter as a penny. 

As Secondo stepped into the room and walked to the head of the table, you felt the air leave the room and the shadows grow darker. He paused behind his chair and gripped the back of the seat so roughly his leather gloves squeaked. Then one by one he eyed each of your sisters, taking his time to dissect them in silence. 

As you shifted from foot to foot waiting for your turn to be scrutinized you wondered what he was looking for. Maybe he was just deciding which of you he’d fuck first, contemplating which body part he’d use for whatever pleasure was in his wrathful head. Or maybe he was thinking about which of you he wanted to get rid of first. 

Along with his insatiable appetite for flesh, Secondo had a reputation for being quick to anger. None of his assistants ever lasted more than a few months and the ghouls on his last tour told you horror stories about blowups backstage. 

Then of course there was also your own experience with Secondo’s rage. It happened a long time ago but you’d never forget it. The way he’d spoken to you. The fire in his eyes. The vitriol he’d spewed, chewing you up and spitting you out like you’d been worth nothing. It had been a nightmare he might have forgotten but you never would. 

If you’d still been drunk you probably would have reminded Secondo of that night. You would have told him off and splashed some of the expensive red wine from his table on his stupid painted face. But you weren’t drunk. You were floating somewhere in the buzzed phase, where the edges of your vision were a bit fuzzy and your inhibitions weren’t entirely free. 

With a soft click the minute hand on the clock moved and it was suddenly your turn to be dissected. Secondo’s mixed-matched eyes met yours… and then it happened. 

The entire room burst into a bright light. Like a flashbang, pain ripped through your eyes and you pinched them closed, staggering backward. A sweltering torrid heat started to burn. It swept over your arms and face and sunk into your clothes. Then it dawned on you. Something in the room was burning. You forced open your eyes and squinted against the light.

Your jaw fell slack.  

It looked like someone had doused gasoline onto every open flame. The fireplace roared and flashed angrily like thunder and lightning and fire from every black candle was shooting high into the air, licking the ceiling and threatening to consume you all in its blaze. 

Someone in the room screamed. 

But just as quickly as it started… it was over. The heat, the sound, the light burning through the dark room all of it was gone in another flash. 

For a moment you wondered if you were seeing things, if maybe you were still drunk, or worse if your sanity was slipping away from you. But then you looked back at Secondo and you knew… he’d seen it too. Uncharacteristically his painted mouth hung open and his pupils were dialed wide. 

“Sei tu?” Papa whispered. “Por favore…sei tu?” He was so quiet you almost didn’t hear him.

“Are you alright Papa?” Sister Luciana asked, but Secondo ignored her. His eyes snapped from the black candles back to you. 

There was something about looking into Secondo’s eyes that was like staring into the sun. You’d forgotten what his eyes looked like from this close a distance. He’d turned his gaze on you like this only once before. That stupid night so long ago but when he’d looked at you then his eyes had pierced you. Like a sword, they’d hurt and stung. But this … this didn’t feel like that. This felt different. There was no pain now. All you felt now as you stared at one another was the warm summer sun. 

It felt good. Really fucking good. 

Papa tilted his head and you mirrored him, like two diametrical opposing species discovering each other in the wild for the first time. If he was working some sort of dark magic you weren’t ready to break the spell. You wanted to feel like this… just for a bit longer. 

“Ehhhhhmmmm,” Sister Luciana loudly cleared her throat and Secondo tore his eyes from you. The moment, or whatever that had been, was over. The sun moved behind the clouds. 

“Papa,” Luciana said several octaves higher than her normal speaking voice, “won’t you please have a seat.” 

Was she really not going to acknowledge the fucking weird ass shit that just happened?! The fact the entire room was almost just consumed by flames?!

You snapped your head around the room and to your shock, no one else seemed to share in your dismay. In fact, no one else seemed to care that the entire room had almost just burned down. Everyone was smiling and obediently staring at Papa, just like they had been before the flames had erupted. 

Secondo nodded at Luciana and took his seat at the head of the table. 

You wanted to scream. 

He had seen it. You were sure. Secondo had definitely seen it too. 

What in the actual name of Satan was going on?! 

Sister Luciana continued on oblivious to your internal turmoil, and took care of Papa’s wine, seductively licking her lips as she poured his pinot noir. The rest of your sisters started their work as well. Mind still reeling from the flames, you did your best to focus on your own task, eventually falling in line and working in tandem with your sisters to fill Secondo’s plate with all sorts of meats and veggies. 

After a moment when his plate was finally piled high, Secondo held up a hand. As Sister Imperator had instructed, you knelt by his feet and clasped your hands in prayer. 

“Dark one, we are one in your blood,” Secondo started, “A conquered people rising from the ashes of your burnt wings. Command us. Open wide the gates of Hell and come forth from the abyss to greet us as your brothers and sisters. We invite you… willingly.” Secondo's voice wavered on the last word and then he paused, closing his eyes and tilting his head toward the ceiling. 

You’d never heard this prayer before. You wondered if he was coming up with it on the fly. It was tradition to recite the anti-Nicene creed before a meal… but Secondo was Papa. You supposed he could say whatever he wanted. But when Secondo spoke again he surprised you. He sounded sadder. Or maybe frustrated. It was difficult to tell since he switched from English to his mother tongue. 

“Mi dispiace se non ho fatto abbastanza per farti piacere. Starò meglio. Per te. Lo giuro. Nema.” 

For the rest of the meal, Secondo acted as you expected. He took and you gave. He demanded more wine, more meat, more potatoes. All of his words came to you as orders instead of asks and you indulged him, bringing him everything he desired. But you did withhold one thing from him. For the rest of the meal, you refused to look Secondo in his heterochromatic eyes. You stared at the floor, out the window, at the food piled high on the table. You kept your eyes anywhere but on his. 

As Secondo put the last bite of his steak into his mouth you took your cue to leave and slipped out the side door and into the butler's pantry. But you weren’t alone for long. One by one, your fellow sisters joined you, each a bit disappointed they hadn’t been chosen by Secondo. First was Sister Madaline, then Sister Sarah, followed shortly thereafter by Sister Morgan. When Sister Rose and Sister Katherina joined you in the pantry together moments later you almost scoffed. Of course, Secondo would pick Luciana. She’d practically eye-fucked him during the appetizer. 

You snagged an apple from a bowl and then hopped up on the granite countertop, hoping Luciana’d at least make it quick.  

“Are we allowed to eat those?” Sister Sarah asked staring hungrily at the apple halfway in your mouth. Imperator had informed you that it was your choice when you ate. You could go to the siblings' dining hall before or after Papa ate. Apparently, like you, Sarah had chosen the latter. 

“Honestly, I don’t know,” you said, munching on the apple, some juice falling ungracefully to your chin. “But these are really good. You want one?” 

“Fuck, yes.” 

You smiled and tossed Sarah an apple from the bowl.

“Anybody else wan-” The sound of dishes shattering interrupted you. Your sisters exchanged wide-eyed glances. Good, you thought. You weren’t the only one hearing things this time. 

“Someone s-should probably go look,” Sister Rose stated nervously. “Just… just to make sure she’s okay, right?”  

It wasn’t surprising when all eyes fell on you. Just as Secondo had his reputation, so did you… and you weren’t known as a rule follower. 

“Fineeeee,” you sighed, hopping down from your perch, “I’ll check it out.” 

You walked toward the dining room door, dropped to your knees, and slowly pushed it open just the smallest crack... just enough that you could see a sliver of the dining room floor. On the ground plates and glasses were smashed. Wine soaked into the carpet and food was scattered everywhere. 

You moved closer inching the door open just slightly… and then you saw Luciana. She was lying naked on the table. Papa stood still clothed in his dress shirt and pants between her thighs. His gloved hands squeezed her throat as his hips slammed into her again and again and again. 

Secondo was fucking Luciana like he didn’t care about the bruises he’d leave behind or if she had enough air to breathe. There was no love here. No gentleness. No kindness. No intimacy. This was brutal. This was feral. This was rough animalistic sex and nothing more. 

But Luciana didn’t care. No, she seemed to love it. 

“Papa. Papa. Papa,” she chanted his title. “Just like that Papa. You feel soooooo fucking good Papa. You’re so biggggg Papa.” 

You wondered if she was faking it, laying it on thick to stroke Secondo’s ego. You didn’t have a great view of Papa or his “big” cock… but you could tell he was ferocious. Even if he was silent, even if he refused to look her in the eye, even if this was the most impersonal bout of rough sex you’d ever fucking seen in your life Secondo was slamming so hard into her you worried the table was going to splinter and break in two. 

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Creaking and moaning. Screaming and panting. You watched it all crouched from the doorway. 

“Fuck Papa. I’m… I’m so close.” Luciana reached up to cradle Secondo's face but he stopped abruptly. He pulled away from her and his eyes darkened. 

Your breath hitched.

“No,” he growled coldly. “This is an offering. Nothing more.” Secondo grabbed Luciana's hand and slammed it down onto the table beside her head with a loud bang.

You jumped. The big brass key to your room slipped from your pocket and clanged loudly against the tile floor. 

“Shit.” 

You slapped your hand over your mouth. Shit. You had not meant to say that out loud. 

Shit. 

You hoped he hadn’t heard that. 

But it was too late.

He’d heard you. 

Secondo’s eyes met yours. 

The warmth you felt when the candles flared swept back over you, one by one igniting your nerve endings into smoldering embers. But the candles weren’t burning any brighter. The room wasn’t getting any hotter. Secondo was simply watching you... and you watched him back, staring directly into the sun that was Papa Secondo. 

Even as he stepped back toward the table, even as he pounded into Luciana harder than he had before, even as she screamed… you stayed and met his gaze. You let Secondo watch you as he fucked her. You let his stare burn you. 

“Papa I’m gonna…” Luciana began to shake, her legs twitched and back arched as she started to careen over her edge, Secondo’s relentless thrusts finally catching up to her. 

“Please… please… just… oh my god!” She cried. 

“There’s no god here,” Papa grunted through gritted teeth, the first sign that he was close to his own end. 

Then like a marionette, Luciana hurtled over her edge. She went limp on the table, her back flat against the wood and her legs splayed open wide. But Secondo didn't slow down. He just kept pushing, kept moving, kept staring directly at you as he fucked into Luciana over and over and over, ignoring her overstimulated whimpers and soft cries. And you stayed. Your knees stayed planted on the floor, your hand stayed glued to the wooden door, and your eyes remained on his. You stayed until a voice called out to you. 

“Sister, what’s going on?” 

Quickly you shut the door and spun around. From beyond the now-closed threshold you heard Secondo roar. Five sets of concerned eyes met yours. 

“W-what?” You stuttered. 

“Sister, what’s going on in there? Is Luciana okay?” Sister Sarah repeated herself, having put down her apple some time ago and moved to huddle with the rest of your waiting sisters in the middle of the pantry.

“Yeah.” You blinked. “Yeah. She’s fine.” 

“Are you sure?” Sister Morgan asked, offering you a hand and helping you stand from the unforgiving cold tile floor. Your knees ached as you reached your full height. How many minutes had you been kneeling for? How long had you been watching? Better yet why did you watch? And why did he let you?

Your head was spinning. 

“Sister?” Morgan asked again. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure. You guys have heard the rumors about Papa right?” You added with a half-hearted laugh. “Well, they’re definitely true. Papa’s just a bit… enthusiastic.” 

Enthusiastic. It wasn’t the right word, but you weren’t about to go into detail on what you'd just seen. Knowing Luciana she’d brag about this whole affair with a megaphone in the courtyard soon enough. The sordid details would come out in the wash. They always did in the Abbey. Your biggest worry now was that you’d be part of the dirty laundry. That maybe while you had looked at Secondo and he at you, Luciana had seen you both. 

Shit. 

You pinched your brow and sighed before leaning against the marble counter. Every minute you had to wait to clean up the dining room was going to be agony.

This was supposed to be a promotion. So why was this job starting to feel more like a nightmare? 

Chapter Text

There was only one place you wanted to be...

A place far away from Papa’s dining room, the bustling great hall, and the dormitories flooded with siblings preparing for a night full of debauchery and sin. You wanted to be in the one place that felt most like home with the people who felt most like family. So you climbed. Stride by stride you moved down ancient and worn stone steps covered in cobwebs and dust as you made your way toward the ghoul dens.

The Abbey had stood on the same grounds for hundreds of years. In that time many improvements had been made. A swimming pool was added in the 1890s, the great hall was expanded in the 1920s, and more recently the kitchens had gone under a total rehaul, with new top-of-the-line appliances and expresso machines flown in from Italy. But the one place the ministry hadn’t touched in all those years was the space below.

The basement of the Abbey was a restricted section for all siblings. Partially because it was a bit unsafe and partially because the ghouls were too much of a handful to be trusted with nice things. There was no electrical power down below. The stone walls in the basement were lit only by candle sconces that threw around long casting and eerie shadows. To those unfamiliar, the basement probably looked more like a crypt than it did a home for hell-spawn creatures. But the ghouls liked it that way and so did you.

At the bottom of the stairs, you snatched a candle from one of the wall scones. For some reason lately, there had been an influx of rats scurrying around the Abbey. The last thing you needed was to accidentally step on one. That might just send you to orbit.

By candlelit, you followed the halls through their maze of twists and turns before stopping in front of a massive set of wooden double doors. A large bronze knocker cast in His image hung from the center. You picked it up and slammed it against the splintering wood door three times.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

“Yeah. Yeah,” you heard a familiar voice call from the other side. “Hold onto your granny panties would ya.”

The door groaned in a heavy sigh as it opened. A scrawny maskless ghoul stood in the entryway. Two white horns protruded from the crown of his head and ashen black skin covered his body. When his orange eyes met yours his spaded tail flicked from side to side.

“Hey! What’s up little snack pack?”

“Hey, Dew,” you sighed. “Can I come in?”

“Sure thing babe.” The fire ghoul bowed with a flourish and waved for you to enter. “Right this way little lady. You look like shit by the way.”

You rolled your eyes as you stepped past the ghoul. The main room of the ghoul den was decorated in what a generous person might call an “eclectic style.” Mix-matched furniture from varying decades was strewn around the room in random places. A few soft carpets were layered on top of one another to confront the cold that seeped into the stone floors during the winter months and much like the stairs leading to the basement, candles burned on the walls basking the place in a soothing warm and yellow light. It wasn’t beautiful. It wasn’t even that clean. But maybe because this was the only place in the Abbey that wasn’t dripping in opulence, it felt like being wrapped in a warm hug. And you needed that right now.

In the center of the room, Cumulus and Auoroa lounged on a lime-green sofa. On a small coffee table in front of them, snacks and drinks were laid out. They waved for you to join them.

“Hey guys,” you said, plopping down on the couch between them with a huff. Dew grabbed a guitar from a table by the door and sat in a chair across from you. Aimlessly he started picking at its strings.

“Hey, love,” Cumulus said smiling from your left. Like Dew, her skin was the color of burnt embers but her eyes differed. They were a beautiful soft gray. The same color as the sky before an evening storm or the pebbles on the beach by the lake south of the Abbey. “What are you doing down here? Shouldn’t you be in that shiny new suite of yours? Mountain told us it was real pretty.”

“Honestly today’s been a day,” you answered, sinking further into the couch. “Just wanted to hang out if that’s alright. Unless you guys had plans. Then I can fuck off.”

“Nah. No plans,” Aurora assured you, popping a chip into her mouth before offering you one. “We were just gonna practice for a bit. Unless you wanna talk about your day?”

“God no,” you answered, taking the chip. “Listening to you guys sounds really nice actually.”

“Oh thank Satan,” Dew huffed. Both Cumulus and Aurua shot the fire ghoul daggers and he stopped strumming the black and white guitar in his lap. “What?! Don’t lie you both wanna sing. You have been begginggggggg me to practice with you. ‘Dew please play with us,’” He impishly sang. “’Dew no one plays like you. Please Dew. You’re so talented with your fingers Dew.’”

“No one said that,” Aurura grumbled, throwing a chip at him. It landed squarely in between his eyes.

“Also we don’t sound like that. Plus if she’s having a bad day some humans like to talk about their feelings,” Cumulus added, picking up another chip and throwing it at Dew. “It’s called empathy dipshit.”

Dew stuck out his tongue and you laughed. You were surrounded by idiots. Sweet and loveable idiots. You were feeling better already. After a few more minutes of juvenile bickering, the hellspawns eventually settled down and started to play.

For as long as you’d known Dew he’d been a cocky shit, always bragging about his skills with a guitar. But as you listened to him play you knew he’d earned every brag he’d ever boasted. He was a magician with strings. Plucking and picking with a mesmerizing mastery that had to have been a gift from Satan himself. But the ghoulettes were just as spellbinding. Their harmonizing voices bounced off the high-bowed walls like sirens, lulling you into easy relaxation. At some point, you decided to crawl off the couch and lie on the floor, curling up in a pile of pillows and blankets and letting the music soothe you.

“That’s really pretty…” you murmured half-asleep, during a short break in the music.

“Mhmm,” Cumulus purred from her spot on the couch.

“What’s it mean?”

“You don’t speak Latin?” Dew asked incredulously, before taking a long draw of some water Aurora had passed him.

You propped yourself up on your elbow and looked back at the fire ghoul. “Eh. I’m a little rusty.”

“Through hardships to hell.”

“What?”

“That’s what it means,” Dew answered, setting his water aside. “Per aspera ad inferi. It means through hardships to hell.”

“Oh,” you said shirking back to the floor and into your covers. It hadn’t occurred to you that this song might be incredibly personal to the three ghouls. They had quite literally crawled through hell to be here in this Abbey and serve the ministry. They had come from the real below.

“Did you guys come up with that?” You didn’t know much about their journey. You’d always assumed it wasn’t your place to ask or to know, but the song… it had been so haunting and yet… so strangely familiar. Even though you hadn’t understood the words, the music had clung to you. Like thick sticky syrup, it had swirled into your blood and mixed in your veins. You felt an inexplicable connection that was as old as time.

“No. We didn’t write it,” Cumulus said quietly.

“Who did?”

The three ghouls looked at one another. Seconds passed like minutes.

“Papa.”

There wasn’t much point in staying in the dens after that. You’d come down here to escape thoughts of Secondo only to be reminded of him all over again.

The climb back toward your suite didn’t take long. The Abbey was quiet this late at night. The hallways were empty of their regular hustle and bustle. Most siblings were asleep in their beds or tangled up in the sheets of another. You reached your door in record time. You pulled out your brass key and slid it into the door... but it was already unlocked.

You heard the crackling of your fireplace before you saw him. He was seated with his back to you in one of the tufted leather armchairs across the room. There were no lights on and you couldn’t see his face from the doorway, but none of that mattered. You knew who it was. Only one person owned the tense curve of those broad shoulders. It was him. It was Secondo. He was here in your room.

“Do I repulse you, sorella?” His voice boomed over the fire.

You froze in the doorway. Legs cemented to the ground, heart ready to bound out of your chest. What was he doing here? Had he come to expel you from the church? Was he going to smile as he tossed you out on your ass?

“Speak up sorella,” Secondo commanded. “I will repeat my question. Do I repulse you?”

“N-no, Papa,” you managed to squeak.

“Come here. I want to look at you while we have this conversation.”

Fuck. So this was it. The sadist was going to make you leave right here and now in the middle of the night. You moved across the room and into the dancing firelight.

After what had happened in the dining room you weren’t prepared to meet Secondo’s eye line again. So you delayed it. Slowly you looked him over, starting at his feet and working your way north.

Secondo wore a pair of black Oxfords, buffed and polished so pristinely that you saw your reflection staring back at you. A few inches higher black socks peaked out from underneath a pair of crisp black slacks. And on his steadily rising and falling chest, he’d opted for a button-down of a matching color. A black and emerald Grucifix hung from his neck. Head to toe he was dressed in black.

He looked like an undertaker. You closed your eyes. You weren’t ready to be laid out on his slab.

“You will answer me honestly, sorrella. No lies to your Papa.” It wasn’t a question but you nodded anyway.

You opened your eyes and looked at Secondo’s face. Since dinner, he’d washed away his sacred paints. A pair of dark aviators were perched on his crooked nose. He looked every bit like the Papa the siblings whispered about. An angry, bitter man, full of rage waiting for a spark to ignite his fire.

“You won’t partake in the offerings?” He questioned.

“No, Papa.”

“It is late, sorrella. I will not drag this out. Tell me your reason and do not lie.”

Secondo was right.

It was late. The clock in the corner of your room had finished its 24-hour cycle and the hours had reached into the early morning. But you were sick of having this conversation. You were sick of defending yourself. Fuck it. If Sister Imperator hadn’t told him you would—cards on the table.

“I don’t like to be so casual about who I have sex with.”

For a moment Secondo looked confused before he burst into a fit of laughter. Bending at the hip, he slapped his gloved hands on the arms of your chair. “Say that again sorella. That is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day.”

You wanted to slap him. Anger pooled in your stomach. Your fist clenched at your side. “I believe sex means something more when there’s more than just a physical connection.”

Secondo laughed again and you bit your cheek. “You know you sound like a Catholic when you say these things. ‘Means something more.’ Are you going to tell me that the next sister I sleep with I should marry and that I should make as many babies with her as possible?”

Secondo rose from the chair and stepped toward you. Inches separated you. You could smell his cologne. Rich and deep. Sacramental incense lingered on his clothes. He stared down at you over the ridge of his nose. His brows cast long, and angry shadows over his already glowering features.

“Do not confuse our rituals for something deeper, sorrella.”

“Of course, you would misunderstand me.”

The words slipped from your tongue before you could think twice. But you didn’t want them back. You meant it.

You’d seen Secondo.

You’d watched him as he moved through the Abbey every day and every night. He only ever thought of himself. He was a taker, never minding what others needed. What others wanted. So why would a conversation here and now be any different? Why would he consider any other person’s perspective but his own? He didn’t even remember what he’d said to you. How he’d hurt you.

“Watch your tone diavolessa,” he growled. “I am your Papa.”

Exactly right, you thought. You are my Papa but you are not my owner. My maker. My master. You have no right to claim me or to force me to do anything. I own my destiny. Not you. You took another step closer to Secondo, the front of your habit brushed against his dress shirt. Unafraid you tilted your chin up. Fire blazed in your eyes. Heat emanated from his chest.

“Apologies, your dark excellency. I will ask Sister Imperator to move me back to my former post in the gardens.” You didn’t want to give up your new apartment but you’d rather fight for lukewarm water in the communal showers than deal with him another day longer.

“That is…” Secondo paused and you closed your eyes bracing for the blow. Send me away. Do it. Send me back to the land of the undeserving and misguided. Do it now. I’d take them over you. I’d take anything over you. “That is unnecessary. I will see you tomorrow.”

Without another word, Secondo brushed past you and walked out your door.

There was no point in going back to his quarters. Secondo wouldn’t sleep. He hadn’t slept well in days. Tonight would be no different. There was too much on his mind.

He needed to clear his head.

So Secondo stepped out into the night.

The air was crisp and cool. Fall would be here soon and the flowers would shrivel. But for now, life still breathed in the grounds and the air still smelled sweet. Secondo followed the dirt path from the south entrance of the Abbey down to the gardens. His older brother had taken meticulous care of them since his retirement, practically spending every waking hour pruning and pampering his beloved piccoli fiori. Primo’s obsession had grown so strong that he’d even moved out of the Abbey’s suites and into a small log cabin on the edge of the ministry’s grounds so he could be closer to his work.

But Secondo hadn’t minded.

It made Primo happy and he could still find his brother for a chat whenever he needed to. If it weren’t for the early morning hour he would have sought out Primo for one of those talks now. The old man was more of a comfort than his father had ever been and his mind had been a mess for weeks. But the sun was almost up. Surely Primo in his old age was sound asleep somewhere. So Secondo chose to stroll the grounds alone and linger in the messiness of his mind.

He wandered through rows of vibrant roses and multicolored hydrangeas, passing various fruit trees and flowering cherry blossoms until he reached something he had not seen before. Underneath a centuries-old weeping willow, Primo had planted something new. In tightly packed rows narrow plots of spectacular white and pink flowers bloomed amongst leathery deep green shrubs. It was beautiful. The shrubbery looked like rhododendrons, but the flowers… Secondo had never seen anything like it. They resembled the cooper bells that hung in the Abbey’s highest towers.

He needed to smell them.

Secondo crouched down on the dirt path and reached for their pretty petals.

“Careful fratello.” Secondo quickly dropped his hand. “She is not so friendly this one.”

Clad in a red robe, Primo emerged from the dark path. His hands were clasped behind his back and he eyed his younger brother with a loving smile.

“Shouldn't you be asleep fratello?” Secondo asked, pushing off the ground with a groan that denoted his age and stood to his full height. “The sun will be up soon.”

“Ah, I was going to ask you the same,” Primo’s smile widened, strolling over to stand next to Secondo. “Do you like the fiori? They are beautiful, no?”

“Si. They are,” Secondo answered truthfully. “New additions?”

“Not entirely fratellino. Many moons ago these flowers used to surround our little Abbey. If you would indulge un vecchio uomo I would like to tell you their story.”

Secondo nodded, “Of course, Primo.”

The elder Emeritus led his younger brother to a stone bench under the willow tree. They sat down together. Secondo looked over the rows of flowers as his brother began to tell his story.

“Before you and I, walked these grounds there was a beautiful sibling who cared for the fiori and impianti. She came to the church with an extensive knowledge of botany and quickly thrived here. From the things she grew, she established the first apothecary in the ministry. She helped many siblings. She was happy and content. Eventually, she fell in love with a brother and he with her. But one day when the sister walked these grounds she witnessed a betrayal. Her mate with another. Her heart was broken. But the sister would not let this indignity stand. She introduced a colony of bees to the garden and let them feed on the nectar of these very beautiful fiori.” Primo’s gloved hand pointed to the rows of pink and white bell flowers in front of them.

“And then the ever-patient sister waited. She waited and pretended everything with her lover was bene, while in the night he continued to be with another. But after a time she returned to the garden and to her bees. She collected their honey knowing their nectar had been poisoned by these beautiful fiori. One evening the sister made her lover a pot of tea and added a spoonful of her wicked honey. As he drank the brother’s lips began to burn. Pain flamed his mouth and throat. He withered and convulsed in pain for hours. The legend diverges here. Some say the brother died. While others claim he recovered but fled the ministry in fear of his beloved’s vengeful wrath. In both versions of the tale these flowers were ripped from our grounds.”

Secondo sat quietly trying to make sense of his brother’s story. Ever since he could remember his elder brother had used longwinded tales to teach him lessons of the world or of the church. But tonight for the life of him, he could not figure out what Primo was to say. What did these poisonous flowers have to do with anything?

He was too tired. A puzzle was the last thing he wanted. He couldn’t hide his annoyance.

“Why are you telling me this brother?” Secondo asked exasperatedly. “You know I don’t care about these plants the way you do.”

“Ahh,” Primo hummed. “That may be true but tastes change fratellino. Things we once thought were insignificant can become valuable to us, no?”

“Primo I don’t under-”

“It’s nice to have beautiful things around, even if we cannot touch, si? Even if we cannot taste?”

Secondo raised an eyebrow. “What have you seen fratello?”

“It should not matter what I’ve seen. You must see for yourself.”

Secondo angered. Standing quickly he spun and stared down at his brother. “How quickly you forget what it is like Primo!” he shouted. “I need guidance. I don’t need this. I don’t know why I bother when you only speak in riddles." Secondo turned his back and stormed away from Primo, but before he got lost amongst the roses he heard his brother's voice.

“He has not forgotten you nor have I. Patience fratellino. Plans are already in motion. You will not be denied.”

Chapter Text

When the tendrils of sleep blackened the edges of his vision and he slipped into unconscious Secondo often remembered that night.

Sin and revelry.

Opulence and greed.

Tradition and pride.

Failure.

He partook as his father had. As his father’s father had. As his father’s father’s father had. Like the men before him, Secondo played the part of a new Papa well on the night of his ascension and everything had gone to plan … until it hadn’t.

The Abbey had been dressed in his new colors. Emerald green banners hung from the halls, table runners of a similar shade decorated the dining rooms, and hundreds of flowering bouquets of green calla lilies scented the air. The siblings had affectionately dubbed the rapid overnight changes to the Abbey “The Great Green Wave.”

The festivities had started in the early morning. A feast was held in Secondo’s honor. Brothers, sisters, bishops, and cardinals had come from near and far to celebrate. They followed him all day, presenting him with gifts and showering him with praises. In the evening, he delivered his first Black Mass and unveiled the design of his piercing papal paints to an adoring clergy. They had cheered for him and sung his name. Secondo felt proud.

He was of course aware of the ulterior motives from some. Social climbers were everywhere and as Papa, his coattails would be heavier with more of them clinging on for crumbs of his power. But for the most part, on his ascension day, Secondo let pride rule.

But everything changed in the catacombs.

The night before his ascension day Primo, as the most recent Papa to rule, had come to his younger brother to explain what would happen down below… or at least what was supposed to happen down below.

The catacombs were the site of the last tradition Secondo would need to complete before officially becoming Papa Emeritus II. Primo explained that on an onyx altar deep in the catacombs there was an old leather-bound book. The book had been in the Emeritus family for as long as there had been a church. It was a gift to their family from the Old One himself, written in the blood of the fallen and created from the ashes of the ninth circle. But the book was more than just a relic of the underworld. As Primo explained, the tome was a link between the world of the living and the world of the dead. And on the very special night of a Papal ascension, the Dark Lord used the book to speak directly with the newly anointed Papa. Secondo would be able to ask Him questions and together they would establish a path for his papacy.

But when the time came and Secondo stood before the old book… nothing happened.

He read every page. And then he read them again and again and again and again. For hours, Secondo stared at the unholy text until his eyes burned and his head hurt. But he didn’t care. He didn’t move. Secondo pushed aside the pain, shoving it somewhere deep, and ignored his bodily needs. Eventually, the sun rose and the first day of his papacy began. But Secondo remained underground. He denied visitors, turning away assistants, ghouls, his father, and his brothers. He refused food, drink, and rest whenever offered. He stayed rooted to the same spot on the stone floor hoping that His voice would finally call out.

When Secondo missed the next evening's Black Mass rumors swirled around the Abbey. But he didn’t hear them. He remained in the catacombs for three days and four nights. He would have stayed longer, but the lack of food and water eventually took a heavy toll on his body and Secondo collapsed on the fourth night.

In the weeks that passed, Secondo began his duties as Papa. But every night like the moon to the night sky, he obediently returned to the catacombs. But no matter how hard he prayed or how much he bargained… it never happened.

As far as he knew, Secondo was the first Papa in a long line of Emeritus’s to enter his papacy without guidance from the One Below. The thought kept him up most nights. Secondo would toss and turn worrying about what he’d done to displease his Lord. He recounted every moment of his life hoping for a moment of clarity so he could amend and atone. But nothing ever came.

Stubborn as an ox however Secondo remained determined. In the waking hours, he scoured the church’s library for answers, reading books from the private Papal-restricted sections and ancient tomes long forgotten. He focused intently on his religious duties and presented as many offerings to the Old One as he could, indulging in sins he knew He enjoyed.

Day in and day out Secondo’s life became about service to his Master and so did his papal reign.

Secondo was aware his consuming attentions warped his reputation. He became known as a cruel and bitter Papa, but it was only because he pushed his flock to be their best when mediocracy was easier. Any assistant who missed evening prayer was replaced, any cook who forgot to bless his meal was reassigned, and any Ghoul who disrespected the Old One was returned to Him.

There were no exceptions. No exclusions. Except for one. Except for you.

A week had gone by since Secondo promoted his first Imperatrixes. They had been subservient, attentive, and sufficient. At each meal they had followed his instructions and served him according to the old traditions, lighting the sacred black candles and kneeling silently for his prayer. But for a week, you stood out from the rest. You didn’t want to be there. That was clear as day. You would hide in the shadows and keep your head bowed. And true to your word you hadn’t participated in a single offering. Instead, choosing to skulk out to the butler's pantry like a kitchen mouse at the end of each meal.

The rational part of Secondo wanted to send you back to Primo and his gardens. The more irrational part of him despised you….hated you, even wanted you out of the church. In your chambers you had been openly combative with him, speaking to him in a tone no one else dared. Santana’s how he had wanted to put you in your place then and send you out the door.

The gall. The god-forsaken gall!

And the way you had stepped to him and cocked your little chin up. The way your chest had puffed up like small prey pretending to be a big predator. The way you had squinted your bright eyes and crinkled your little nose. Lying in his bed he replayed it all again and again and again. For a week he fell asleep with only the image of your stormy eyes in his mind.

But Secondo never sent you to Primo. He never let that part of his mind win because he reminded himself of the fire. He reminded himself of how it had burned uncontrollably when you looked at one another. It had to have been a sign. Secondo was sure. Absolutely certain. In all the books he’d read Satan’s favorite way to message the living was always through hellfire. What happened in the dining room was surely the Dark Lord's first attempt to communicate with him. There could be no other explanation.

But since that night nothing else extraordinary had happened. In the daylight when you shared space no more hellfire erupted and at night when he returned alone to the book in the catacombs no words were spoken.

But ever-stubborn Secondo wasn’t going to let you go.

He had a plan. He would see the fire again. He would hear his voice.

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Leave us.” Secondo’s leather glove wrapped around your wrist and you felt your pulse spike.

“H-have we o-offended you, Papa?” Sister Rose’s voice shook. She along with your other Sisters hadn’t seen this sudden outburst coming. Everyone panicked.

“There has been no offense sorella but tonight I will dine with her alone.”

You started to speak when Secondo suddenly tugged you closer causing you to clumsily trip over the frayed edges of the oriental rug on the floor. The corners of your vision blurred in dizzying motion as you hurtled forward straight toward the corner of the large walnut table. You closed your eyes, bracing for the inevitable impact….but it never came.

Just as quickly as you had fallen the hand circling your wrist shot to your waist and pulled upright. In the dark, you felt the brush of silk robes and the surprisingly strong muscles hidden underneath them. You sharply inhaled. The air smelled of sweet tobacco and flowering incense. You listened to his breathing. Deep and steady against your ears. Calm like a river. For a moment, it was nice. To be held. To feel safe in strong arms. To have someone keep you close. To have someone protect you, even if it was from just a table. It was nice to be in someone’s arms. It had been so long.

But when he spoke the spell was broken and you remembered just who exactly was holding you tight.

“You are dismissed sorellas. Go in sin.” Secondo’s warm glove slid from your waist. As the last of your sisters excited the dining room, he moved slowly to the fireplace at the other side and stared into the flames. The scent of him lingered behind him. Sweet and smoky.

“Take a seat sorella.” You did as he asked and pulled out the dining chair closest to you. Secondo turned and tutted.

“No,” he said sternly shaking his head. “Sit here by my chair. There is much we need to discuss and I do not wish to shout all evening.”

Fuck.

Your heart banged so violently against your ribs that you worried the bones might break.

For the past week, you’d managed to avoid Secondo’s wrath by sticking to your duties and slipping away before he took one of your siblings. He’d never asked you to partake again but you worried now he’d changed his mind. If he was going to give you an ultimatum you were ready to pack your bags and run.

Never in a million years would you willing touch Secondo. Unless of course, he was keeping you from smashing your face into a table. But that was different.

“Of course Papa.” You obediently moved to the chair beside his. “Have I done something wrong?”

Secondo eyed you as he took his seat at the head of the table. His expression was cold, but you couldn’t read it further. His papal paint hid his true emotions.

“I have spent many hours thinking about our last discussion and I have…” Secondo paused and you balled your fist in worry under the table “Frankly sorella I have concerns.”

“Concerns Papa?”

“Si. I am worried that you have lost your way.”

Your mind raced with all the things you could have possibly done wrong. There had been nothing. You’d been the shining example of obediency. "Lost my way, Papa? I'm just trying to serve you and the Old One as best I can."

Secondo leaned back in his chair. “I understand that, but there's more to serving the Dark Lord than merely following instructions. You seem disconnected, almost as if you're not fully committed to our faith."

"I assure you, Papa,” you stammered, “my faith is unwavering. I simply want to honor your teachings and serve Him to the best of my ability."

Secondo looked at you for a long moment. His piercing white eye made you feel small… as though you were being judged by the Old One himself. "That may be the case, but I fear your mind does not reflect your words.”

You frowned and looked down at your hands. A strange tightness twisted in your chest. What was he talking about? You had been faithful and obedient, hadn't you? Sure you weren’t always the rule follower that some of the meeker and younger siblings tended to be but that wasn’t against His teachings. Free will was just as important as the prayers. So what if you’d snuck off to the ghoul dens and ate fruit from his pantry? What did that matter?

"I don't understand, Papa. What do you require of me that I'm not doing?"

Secondo took a deep breath. "It's in your eyes, sorella. There's a fire there, a defiance that tells me you're hiding something. Something you shouldn't be."

In your eyes? In your fucking eyes?!

What the hell was he talking about?

Your heart pounded in your ears, and you tried to hide the sudden fury that overcame you. You reached up to cover your face, attempting to smooth away any traces of your anger that had bubbled to the surface. "Papa, I assure you, I am not hiding anything.” Other than my consuming hatred of you. “And I have done exactly as you have asked."

“If that is true then I would like to ask one more thing of you.”

“Name it.”

“I want you by my side for every hour of the waking day. I want you with me always. Sorella… become my assistant.”

Any hope of reigning in your emotions burned alive. You erupted.

“I’d rather die.”

There it was.

You may have slipped on the mask of a brava sorellina for a week but Secondo knew…that wasn’t who you were. This was. Insubordinate. Reckless. A lost and wayward soul. Una diavolessa laid at his feet. A challenge given to him by Satan himself.

It all made sense.

He understood the fire now. It had been a sign from the Dark One. He’d put you here as a test. Secondo would need to lead you back into the light of the Morning Star. And no matter the cost he would pay it. He would redeem you by whatever means necessary. He would make you a shining member of His church an example for all to see. 

As Papa Emeritus the Second it was his duty and he would not fail… because through you he knew would finally be able to speak to the Old One. He just had to break you and mold you back together in His image.

And he would break you. 

“Eat up, diavolessa. I want to show you something.”

Dinner was unbearable, but somehow you survived.

Luckily the food had been delicious and the wine plentiful. Neither you nor Secondo had spoken until your plates and glasses were empty. Only then did he ask you to accompany him to the catacombs, and against all sound judgment you agreed. That’s how you found yourself deep underground with Papa Emeritus the Second staring at an ancient book on a black altar.

“Do you know what this is sorella?”

“No, Papa.”

“Come closer.”

For the second time that evening, Secondo’s gloved hand wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you closer, pulling you roughly toward toward the strange-looking book.

On its cover were carved images of demons and the Morning Star. The pages were thick and yellowed, and as Secondo opened them, you felt a chill run down your spine. You had heard tales of these ancient tomes, forbidden and guarded with great secrecy by the ranks of the church. They were said to contain powerful magic, capable of summoning demons and divulging the future. And there, in front of you, was one such book. You could feel its power. You wondered if it was alive.

“He wrote this didn’t he?”

Secondo nodded.

“Why are we here, Papa?”

“I want to read it to you.”

As Secondo began to recite from the ancient text, the air in the catacombs grew thicker, charged with an ethereal energy that sent shivers down your spine. The words were in a language you couldn't understand, a twisted blend of Latin and an unknown primal tongue that clawed its way into your mind. As Secondo continued, the torches flickered and dimmed, casting long shadows that danced across the walls like spectral figures. The ground beneath your feet felt uneasy and you knew the earth was trembling in response to dark magic.

You tried to pull away from Secondo's grip but his hold on your wrist tightened. You couldn’t breathe. You wanted to run. To scream. To beg him to stop. To hide from whatever was about to happen but just as you thought you couldn't bear it a second longer, a low rumbling echoed through the chamber and the lights went out completely. 

Then you were falling.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Somewhere in the distance, Secondo screamed your name. But just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. You landed with a jolt on solid ground and the impact knocked the wind from your lungs. Gasping for air, you struggled to make sense of your surroundings. Everything was pitch-black. The ground beneath you felt like dirt instead of stone. Sulfur and ash wafted through the air.

"Papa, where are you? Papa? Secondoooo?!"

A deep voice roared from the darkness. “Do you miss him already child?” 

Chapter Text

“Papa, where are you?”

Something was wrong. 

“Papa?” 

Something was very wrong. 

Secondo had never heard you like this before. You were normally so frustratingly bold, so annoyingly overconfident. But now? Now your words were hushed and fragile, like you were on the brink of breaking in two. You sounded so scared. So meek. So small. 

Something was very very wrong. 

Secondo set the ancient book down on the altar and turned to look at you fully. Your bright eyes were glossed over. Your face was completely flat, utterly expressionless like the lights were on but no one was home. 

“Sorella,” he breathed quietly, scared to frighten you further, “sorella are you with me?” 

You didn’t respond. Not even a furrow of your brow or a scrunch of your nose as you so often did when he spoke to you. There was nothing. Your mind was somewhere else and Secondo started to panic. “Sorella, answer me now.” He reached out to touch your cheek, but the moment his gloved fingers brushed your skin you screamed and he quickly dropped his hand like he’d touched an open flame. 

“Secondoooo?!”

Suddenly your bright eyes turned white as they rolled to the back of your head you crumbled to the ground, but luckily Secondo was quick, catching you before your head smashed against the stone floor. As he lifted you into his arms, Secondo realized with a sickening jolt that your body was unnaturally light, almost weightless in his grasp. Cold fear surged through him as he searched your face for any signs of life, hoping for even the faintest flicker of consciousness. His fingertips tentatively brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen across your face, revealing your paling skin and parted lips. He leaned in closer to listen to your breathing. Shallow but steady breaths passed through your lips. 

He allowed himself the smallest sigh of relief. You were still alive.

“Sorella, wake up,” he whispered, brushing his hand against your cheek one more time. “Please sorella, wake up... please.” 

From the inky blackness, he emerged. Dressed in a scarlet red suit and shiny black oxfords, he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. “I’m sorry if I frightened you. It’s been many moons since I’ve shown myself to someone.” 

His voice was smooth like honey, wrapping around you like the warm summer sun. But what caught your attention the most were his eyes. Like the pair you’d been looking into before your fall, they were heterochromatic and stunningly beautiful. His left was black as coal and his right was as white as snow and yet it somehow glowed with an otherworldly bright light. When he smiled, he revealed pristine white teeth, but his two front canines pointed sharply downward like a wolf. 

You knew immediately who this was. The fallen angel, the devil himself - Lucifer stood before you. You fell to your knees and tucked your chin reverently to your chest.  

“M-my lord,” you squeaked. 

Lucifer chuckled before reaching out a hand to help you to your feet. “None of that. I’m not the one who demands groveling.” His eyes sparkled with mirth as you lifted your chin to meet his gaze. 

“What would you have me do then?” you asked smiling back at him. 

“Ahhh, my dear,” Lucifer purred, letting go of your hand and circling you. The tips of his clawed fingertips traced your body and you closed your eyes to savor his touch. He was warm and smelled like brimstone. “I'm not one for demands. I merely offer… opportunities.”

Lucifer dropped his hand from your side and stopped in front of you. You opened your eyes. “I will serve you however I can. Whatever you need from me consider it done.”  

“You misunderstand, sweet child,” Lucifer said gently without any trace of condescension. “Your life is your own as are your decisions. You are free because you have the right to choose your path. This is where we differ from them. I simply want to show you a road. Whether you walk down it is up to you. Would you like to see?”

“More than anything.”  

Lucifer held out his hand and smiled. “Then follow me, child.” You laced your fingers with his and walked with Lucifer into the void. 

Secondo cradled you against his chest as he stormed through the Abbey, robes billowing wildly behind him. Luckily it was late enough that most siblings were in their beds, but truly he didn’t care about the few who remained in the halls. They could whisper and stare if they liked. You were the only thing on his mind. 

Finally, he reached the safety of his private chamber and he gently laid you down on the velvet sheets of his tufted bed. You let out a soft moan that tightened his chest. “Come back to me sorella,” he whispered softly, kneeling beside you. “Please come back.” You whimpered again and Secondo laid his head against your limp hand. His paints smudged into your soft skin and the sheets below. Then for the first time in a long time… Secondo let himself go. 

Emotions, he so often buried deep, came bubbling to his surface. The facade of strength and bitterness melted away. Secondo fell apart. He tried his best to breathe, deep breaths in and out. But on each inhale his chest started to burn and on each exhale tears pricked in the corner of his eyes.

He never should have brought you to the catacombs. He should have known it wouldn’t end well. He’d been naive to think the Dark Lord would speak to him just because he’d brought you to the book. Nothing about his papacy had gone how he had dreamed… and oh how he had dreamed. He’d wanted this for so long. To wear the crown, to lead the church, to take the stage. But maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to be Papa. Maybe he truly was the failure his father said he was. 

‘Nient'altro che un grande idiota con la voce di un uccello canoro.’ 

His shoulders shook as he let out a quiet sob. Secondo felt like a fraud. If you never woke up what names would his father call him now? 

‘Un mostro, un assassino, un Papà spericolato e indegno.’

And you.

You may be a sorella who had lost her way… but you did not deserve this, to fade away like a flower plucked unceremoniously from the earth. That should not be the end of your story. Secondo's tears fell silently onto the back of your hand.

Suddenly the door to his bedroom opened and Seccondo panicked, ripping himself away from you. He’d rather bury himself alive than let anyone see him like this. Weak. Fragile. Fraudulent. Quickly he brought his hand to his face and tried to hide any tears that had fallen on his face. A large ghoul stood in the doorway, his broad chest heaving up and down. “Papa,” Alpha said out of breath, panting heavily like he’d run from somewhere far. “Has something happened? Are you alrig-“ 

“Get out!” Secondo roared, cutting off his most loyal ghoul. “Get the hell out of here!” 

Hand in hand you walked with Lucifer through the void until a white light appeared. 

It was blinding, almost painful in its brilliance, and yet… yet for some reason you felt drawn towards it. Something about its warmth, its pulsing softness called you forward. Lucifer’s hand tightened around yours, anchoring you to whatever reality he’d pulled you into. 

As you stepped together closer to the light, shapes began to form within it. Images flickered like shadows against the radiant glow, scenes of joy and sorrow, of beginnings and endings, of love and lust. A pair of faces too blurred to decipher repeated again and again. You could hear them whisper, like echoes in a cave, urging you to come closer and join them. 

“Remember,” Lucifer’s voice swirled around you joining the echoing whispers, “this is a choice. I have not predestined your path.”  

“I understand,” you answered before stepping fully into the light. 

Then everything stilled. 

The voices silenced. The flashing images froze and in front of you, a scene appeared on an old crumbling theater stage. Lucifer sat beside you in the first row. No others joined you in the audience. 

“What’s going on-”

“Shhh,” Lucifer hushed before tossing a kernel of popcorn into his mouth from the magically formed bucket in his lap. “The show is about to start.” 

Your eyes flickered back to the stage and the curtain rose. 

Two people, a man and a woman stood facing one another their expressions, although blurred in a haze fog, were mixed with love and longing. The man held out his hand to the woman with a silent plea in his eyes, but the woman hesitated to return his touch. She murmured and shook before turning her back to him. But then the man whispered something to her in a language you didn’t understand and they both smiled. The woman turned again to face the man and she reached for him, but just as their fingertips brushed, flames engulfed them both, tearing them apart and setting the entire stage on fire. 

You gasped. 

A deep painful ache dug in your chest like a thousand tiny needles poking you from the inside and you were sure… as sure as the sky was blue, that this was your story. You could have this life and this love. You could sway by the moonlight with this man, you could laugh and sing with him in the summer sun by the gardens, and you could spend long nights being worshipped in his sheets… but you could also burn and turn to ash. 

“This is the choice you face,” Lucifer murmured leaning over to whisper in your ear. “To follow the path of love and courage, or to let fear and doubt consume you. Remember, the light is not always where you expect it to be.” 

The firey scene started to fade and you panicked. If you were the woman. Who was the man? You tried to stand out of your seat and move toward the stage, to lean further into what light remained, but something thick and sold tangled around your legs and held you against your seat with a strength you couldn’t overpower no matter how hard you tried. 

“Wait!” you begged desperately. “I haven’t seen his face! How will I find him? How will I know?” 

Lucifer laughed. 

“The road will fork when the snake returns to the garden.” 

“I-I don’t,” you started. “I don’t understand. What does that mea-” But before you could finish your sentence Lucifer disappeared and you were falling. 

Down.

Down.

Down.

Chapter Text

It’d been hours since you woke up in Secondo’s bedroom. He’d left you in a hurry not long after you’d risen, claiming he had “important duties to attend to,” but not before demanding you stay and rest for the remainder of the day.

You’d objected.

Even though you’d slept for ten hours you’d felt fine, albeit a bit disoriented and hungrier than a horse. The only thing you’d really wanted to do was scurry off to the ghoul dens and tell Mountain everything that had happened before crashing in his oversized bed.

But Secondo never offered you that choice.

“You will stay until I return sorrella,” he had said.

And to make sure you followed his orders, Secondo had called for Alpha to watch over you. You’d seen Alpha many times over the years but you had never actually talked to the quiet fire ghoul. He didn’t interact much with humans and the circle of ghouls he associated with was small. Omega. Crust. Occasionally Aero.

Primo summoned him years before you joined the church, but everyone knew where his loyalties truly lied. For as long as you could remember, Alpha had been Secondo’s right-hand ghoul. Day in and day out the two were an inseparable pair. There were of course rumors that the fire ghoul was Secondo’s secret lover but you never believed those whispers. It always seemed to you that Alpha followed Secondo around more like a loyal knight protecting his king rather than a groupie chasing after a Papa in shimmering robes. Duty and honor just felt more likely than love and lust.

But there was a plus side to being held hostage in Secondo’s chambers by the stoic fire ghoul. Before Secondo had left he’d given Alpha two commands. The first, annoyingly, was that under no conditions were you allowed to leave… but the second command was the one that had you smiling mischievously from ear to ear.

“While she’s here she wants for nothing,” Papa Secondo had said.

Wants for nothing…

There was no way, Secondo knew what he had done. It was like handing a kid the keys to the candy store. And ohhhhhh were you going to indulge, until your sweet tooth rotted. So far you’d tested the boundaries by ordering a ginormous breakfast. Eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, cinnamon rolls, hash-browns, bagels, salmon. Hell, you even ordered the expensive caviar the senior clergy had on hand for the more lavish parties. You’d ordered everything that the kitchen could make until it filled up almost the entirety of Secondo’s bedroom floor. The spread had been like a dream. Salty. Sweet. Savory.

With enough food to feed a small army, you’d stuffed yourself full and somehow managed to convince your captor to eat as well. Before long both you and Alpha were giggling and laughing as you passed platters of delicious food back and forth.

Surprisingly Alpha was more game to let loose than you’d expected. After breakfast, you’d asked him for half a dozen boquets of fresh flowers and he’d immediately called Primo’s greenhouse without complaint, even suggesting you up the number to a whole dozen.

You nearly died laughing when Mountain had answered on the other end.

“Twelve arrangements. To…to Papa Secondo’s chambers? Really? No. That’s no problem. And when do you need them? ‘As soon as we can.’ Okay. Yeah. No. No, we can do that. We’ll have them delivered in a few hours. Any preference in flower or color?”

Alpha had cocked an eyebrow at you then.

“Something pretty.”

“Something pretty,” he parroted with a smile into the phone.

At your request, Alpha also put in a call to have your record player delivered alongside a handful of your favorite albums and a set of large speakers. By lunchtime, almost every free surface of Papa’s chambers was covered in roses and lilies of varying colors and you were having a great time dancing with your new friend.

During a break in the music and as Alpha picked out a new record, you took some time to look around Papa’s space. His chambers had been… surprising. You expected Secondo to live in a cold and dark place. Something unwelcoming and offputting much like the man himself. But that wasn’t the case. Secondo’s space was beautiful.

Thick oriental carpets covered the cold stone floors and several warm-looking fur blankets laid on a leather couch by an onyx fireplace. Black candles outnumbered the few electric lamps scattered around, casting the room in a fiery glow. Every single piece of furniture looked comfortable and inviting like it was chosen for its purpose over its form. Soft lines, plush fabrics, and rich colors were everywhere.

There were also dozens of beautifully framed art pieces on the wall; sprawling watercolor landscapes of the Abbey’s grounds, a series of charcoal depictions of His fall from grace, and even a few portraits of his brothers from decades prior. Primo with more hair. Terzo with less wrinkles.

Everything about the space felt carefully curated and yet surprisingly lived-in. If it had been anyone else’s room you could have easily imagined yourself here at the end of a long day. Slipping your heels off to walk barefoot on the carpets, curling up on the couch with a glass of wine, letting the fireplace lull you to sleep. It all sounded nice until you remembered the man you’d have to share it with.

You turned away from an oil painting of the Abbey’s winter gardens and moved to the far left corner of Secondo’s room where a small mahogany desk sat. While everyone in the upper clergy had an office in the eastern wing, it was clear that Secondo liked to work from his room. And by the sheer volume of things on his desk, you guessed that work usually ran late into the night.

There were dozens of books scattered about. Some of them open to various pages. Others had hundreds of rainbowed colored plastic tabs sticking out of them. Under the piles of books, you noticed a stack of half-written sermons and lyrics. Immediately you recognized one song. Per Aspera Ad Inferi. It was the same Dew, Cumulus, and Aururoa had played for you in the dens.

As Alpha placed the needle on the next record, you shuffled through some more of Secondo’s unfinished lyrics, sliding pages under pages. Though each song was different, it was clear that Secondo was working on a cohesive work. Everything was heavy on religious themes and doctrines. Satan and his teachings were always at the forefront. There were no love songs. Nothing that spoke of joy or hope. Just dark, heavy verses focusing on reckoning and penance.

“Do you want to dance some more?” Alpha asked, crossing the room as a light jazz song played in the air. You nodded and met the fire ghoul in the middle of the room. Taking his clawed hand in yours the two of you began to sweep around the room in a playful airtight waltz.

“Alpha?” you asked, pressed against the ghoul.

“Yes, sorella.”

“Can I ask you about Papa?”

Alpha’s eyes quickly shot down to yours. “If you are going to ask if he and I-”

“No,” you interrupted. “That’s not. I wasn’t,” you stammered quickly. You didn’t want Alpha to think that you were a gossip. That wasn’t what you wanted to know. “Do you think if you made him angry enough that he’d actually send you back to…” You didn’t need to finish your question. Both you and Alpha knew there was only one place Secondo could return him to.

Alpha stopped dancing, clearly taken aback by the question. His hand froze against your back. “No.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Papa knows I am loyal to him.” Alpha's voice was firm, "He trusts me, perhaps more than he should. But I am bound to him, sorella, just as you are now bound here by his command."

“Why?”

Alpha turned away from you, a flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before it was gone. “Papa is misunderstood sorella. You might see anger and rage but there’s more there. There is always more.”

“But you’re sure? You’re sure he’d never do that to you?”

Alpha spun back around and looked down at you, cocking his head to the side, a reminder that sometimes ghouls were more animal-like than human. “Yes. I am sure. But why are you asking me this?”

“Well as lovely a dance partner as you are,” you smiled, “I think it’s time we let loose around here Alpha.” The fire ghoul's eyes twinkled impishly and you realized for as stoic as he’d appeared, Alpha was just as mischievous as you were. “Just two more questions. What's your favorite kind of alcohol? And can I borrow the phone?”

"I have a preference for absinthe," he replied, a sly grin stretching across his face. With a nod, he gestured towards the phone on the desk. You smiled back at your new friend and picked up the phone on Secondo’s bedside table.

“Good afternoon Cardinal Terzo. Yes. Yes, it’s me. I was wondering… do you have any absinthe?”

Secondo had a rough day.

He’d fired his assistant the moment she’d walked into his office and in her absence, his paperwork had piled high. He couldn’t blame the oblivious sorella for that though. She’d only been in his service for a month and had yet to figure out how he liked his coffee or how little he’d liked her idle chit-chat. Secondo knew even if he hadn’t fired her, she probably wouldn’t have helped make a dent in his work.

It was his own fault. He had been distracted.

All day he’d thought of you.

Again and again, he replayed the moment you’d woken up in his room. How small you looked in his massive bed, how terrified you’d been when you’d seen him watching over you, how you’d struggled to catch your breath before jumping out of his sheets. It was all he could think about.

Even after everything that happened Secondo still felt that the Old One had put you in his life for a reason. And while he was pretty sure it was because he needed to make you a better member of the church something was nagging at Secondo, pulling at the back of his mind, like a loose thread he couldn’t reach, that maybe… just maybe he was wrong about that.

But something was connecting you two.

Secondo could feel it. When he was with you he felt something dig in his chest. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before. It ached and burned and scratched at his insides but when he’d left you this morning… the burning fizzled away. The scratch, the ache all of it was gone. And for some strange reason, he missed it.

Was it another sign he wondered? To want to feel the pain? To need it? To be consumed by it? Sathanas how he wanted to feel it again. But was he supposed to want that? Was he turning into the masochist the siblings whispered he was for wanting that?

If only he could speak to the Dark Lord. If only he had some guidance he could know exactly what to do. If only…

No.

Secondo stopped himself.

As badly as he wanted to commune with the Dark Lord, wallowing in his self-pity wouldn’t solve his problem. He had to move forward. And he would.

He had a plan.

Secondo decided he would ask you to be his assistant again today. He wasn’t sure if you remembered the brief conversation he’d had with you about it before everything turned to shit last night. But he would ask you again. And he would phrase it as less of a choice. He needed you close. He may not be sure why yet. But he knew that he needed to feel that ache you caused.

Secondo sat at his desk, a glass of whiskey in hand, as he poured over the same text for what felt like hours until eventually the clock in the corner struck seven times. The day had come and gone. The pile on his desk remained and now it was time for dinner. Distracted by you, Secondo had skipped every meal and opted instead to snack on a handful of crisps and sweets he kept in his desk throughout the day. He wasn’t interested in going to the dining room now either. His Imperatrix could have the day off. He needed to get back to you. He needed to feel the ache.

But as Secondo stood to leave, he felt another kind of ache. His stomach growled, loud and long. He decided to make a quick pit stop at the kitchens before returning to his room. An hour later, balancing two dinner plates covered in silver cloches, Secondo carefully opened the door to his chambers.

He never expected what was waiting for him on the other side.

His room was full. Every square inch was covered in swaying warm bodies as up-tempo music pulsed from a pair of speakers by the door. Dozens of maskless ghouls danced and drank together out of red plastic cups. They smiled and laughed, singing along to the song blaring from the big black speakers. The smell of liquor and sweat mixed with something sweeter he couldn’t place.

And in the center of it all, was you.

You stood in the middle of his room, pressed tightly against Terzo. Secondo watched as his brother's hands roamed against the soft curve of your back and down your sides as he danced with you. The two of you moved lasciviously, chest to chest in tune with the pounding bass. Eyes locked on one another smiles beamed on both of your faces.

Secondo started to move forward but froze as Terzo dipped you low causing your hair, free from your usual veil, to cascade towards the ground like a waterfall. The crowd of ghouls around you whooped and hollered. Secondo heard Alpha let out a long wolf whistle from the other side of the room.

You laughed as Terzo set you back on your feet and whispered something briefly in your ear. Without missing a beat, you reached behind you, and grabbed a bottle of absinthe, taking a long swig before passing it to Terzo. A small river of the green spirit dribbled down the corner of your mouth, slicking your lips and landing on the white collar of your habit. Secondo’s jaw clenched as you laughed again, tossing your head back before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

But then it was your turn to freeze. Like a deer caught in headlights every muscle in your body tensed as your eyes met Secondo’s.

And he felt it again. The burn. The ache. The pain he’d daydreamed of. It all slammed into Secondo’s chest until he felt ready to implode like a dying star.

For what felt like an eternity neither of you moved. Like two statues forced to face one another by a curator's judicious hand, the party continued around you. Bodies swayed and drinks flowed. One song ended and another began. It wasn’t until Terzo stepped in front of you, blocking his brother’s view, that Secondo dropped the twin cloches onto his entry table with a loud bang and every set of eyes in the room snapped in his direction.

“Out!” Secondo roared over the loud music. “Everyone out now!”

Alpha appeared quickly, ripping the speakers' cord from the wall. The music stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry Papa,” the fire ghoul started, “You said that she shouldn’t want for-”

“Go,” Secondo interrupted, without taking his eyes off of you. “I will deal with you in the morning.”

“Yes, Papa,” Alpha answered, tucking his tail between his legs before scurrying out of the room. The other ghouls quickly followed, quietly piling into the hall until only you and Terzo remained. You stood awkwardly beside Terzo, absinthe bottle still in hand. Secondo slowly walked toward you.

“Mi scuso, fratello.” Terzo's hand dropped from your waist as he gave you a little smirk and continued speaking in his native tongue, “Non sapevo lei ti appartenesse.”

You didn’t understand what Terzo had said, but you knew it had made Secondo angry. His temples flared and he swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing heavy in his throat. Secondo stopped inches from Terzo, leaning over him until his younger brother had to crane his neck up to meet his glare.

“Le hai dato la chiave della sua stanza, idiota. Sai che è la mia Imperatrix,” Secondo said. His voice was even but you knew there was a controlled calmness that belied a storm raging beneath his surface.

You worried for Terzo.

You hadn’t meant to get anyone else in trouble with your little stunt. You’d only hoped to prove to Secondo that you weren’t something he could control while having a little fun at his expense. But of course, he would turn to rage. Secondo seemed to be the only person in this god-forsaken Abbey who hated fun.

But to your surprise, Cardinal Terzo seemed unafraid of his older brother’s anger. His smile widened and he laughed as he spoke, “Non è quello che intendevo, Secondo... conosco il titolo della sorella.”

“Parla chiaramente, fratello.”

“I am only saying,” Terzo began, glancing at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “that I know her title. She may be your Imperatrix, but she dances like a diavolessa.” You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. “Non sapevo lei l'avessi reclamata per te stesso. Troverò altre bellissime sorelle con cui giocare. Vedo che lei è tua adesso. Non sei mai stato bravo a condividere, vero Secondo? Mi scuso.” With a final wink in your direction, Terzo swept out of the room, leaving you alone with Secondo.

“Coglione,” Secondo muttered under his breath before reaching for the bottle of absinthe in your hand and gently, setting it aside.

You hadn’t realized how grounding the bottle had been until you were left swaying on your feet without it. You could feel your pulse beat through each of your fingers as blood rushed everywhere but your head. Shit. How much of that stuff had you drunk?

“You have overstepped, sorella.” Secondo hissed. “My generosity has been taken for granted.”

“Generosity?!” you screamed, your voice cracking with frustration. “You locked me in here like a prisoner! You sent a literal beast from hell to make sure I couldn’t escape! And you want to call it generosity?!”

“You have used my position for your amusement today. No?”

“So what?!” you argued. “What’s the point of having all this,” you challenged, waving your hands around his beautiful room filled with food, flowers, and booze, “if you don't even enjoy it? Why have nice things? Why have whatever you want at your beck and call if you don’t even enjoy it?”

“Ostentatiousness is an offering to Him,” he replied stiffly, his tone brooking no argument.

“But aren’t you supposed to enjoy overindulging? Fucking hell, do you ever enjoy anything?!”

Secondo remained quiet, turning away from you and staring into the fireplace. You could have let things go then, but the alcohol had loosened your tongue and you were tired of holding back. You were never any good at it anyway, especially around him.

Fuck it.

“You just want everyone around you to be as pissed off and miserable as you are. You know I’ve never even seen Alpha smile until today? God, you don’t even fuck like you enjoy it!”

Secondo spun around immediately. His eyes blazed with fury. “Sit down,” he growled.

You sat immediately. You didn’t know why but you did. Even Secondo looked surprised before he regained his composure and stepped closer to you on the couch. His legs pushed your knees apart until he was standing in between your thighs. You slid back against the couch. The cool leather pressed against your neck, and you looked up at Secondo. You could smell him. Cologne and incense swirled around you. He leaned down, placing his hands against the couch on either side of your head, boxing you in.

“Do you think Sister Luciana enjoyed it? When I fucked her and you watched, crouched from the doorway like a piccolo topo. Tell me sorella do you think she enjoyed it?”

A lump formed in your throat. All you could do was spit out a vowel. “I…”

One of Secondo’s hands moved from the back of the couch to cup your jaw. His gloved thumb brushed across the supple plains of your cheek and you held your breath.

“You don’t think I could make you scream if I touched you like that?” he whispered softly. “You don’t think I could make you cum until you’ve seen the stars above?”

Secondo tilted your jaw up with his index finger and cocked his head to the side, parting his painted lips. Your eyes roamed over his face. Taking in every line, every fleck of paint, every small scar that dotted his chiseled face. Hot and humid, you breathed each other's air. He leaned closer again and you closed your eyes, bracing for the feeling of his lips against your own, anticipating the taste of him on your tongue.

And you let yourself want.

You wanted it. You wanted to taste him. To have him. To feel him. Maybe you’d gone mad. But anger and lust had never felt more like two sides of the same coin than in that moment.

But then everything faded away.

The hand on your cheek vanished. The smell of spice and wood disappeared. The warm slide of his legs against your inner thighs turned cold and you opened your eyes. Secondo had pulled away, taking a step back and standing upright. His eyes softened slightly before he turned his back on you and steadied himself with a long drawn-out exhale.

“I will see you in my office at 6:00 am tomorrow, sorella.”

You left Secondo’s chambers quickly after that, mind racing. What the hell just happened? Was that just another kind of power play from Papa? Or was it something else? Something different? When you’d been dancing with Terzo he’d looked at you differently. There’d been something there. Something hidden behind his paints and chiseled scowl. But what was it? And why did you care?

Lost in a haze of intoxication and your muddled thoughts you stumbled your way through the dimly lit corridors of the Abbey, and back to your chambers. Maybe if you’d left Secondo's room earlier, or had a few less swigs of Terzo’s absinthe, you would have noticed the pair of eyes that followed you from Papa’s chambers to your door. But the night was late and the shadows were long. You would have to deal with your stalker in the daytime.

Chapter Text

Out beyond the summer gardens, there is a seldomly walked path. It twists and turns around broken trees, large boulders, and the placid waters of a glacial lake. There’s nothing important on the path anymore, or at least that’s what the upper clergy tells its youngest siblings, but the footpath is dangerous. It’s been decades since the ministry diverted funds away from maintaining it to build a straighter and safer walkway from the Abbey down to the lake’s oftused beachfront. Any markers that used to stand along the old route are long gone and the only indication a path used to exist at all are the faint traces of gravel that peek out from blankets of fallen leaves and overgrown grass. 

Most sane people avoid the old path. It’s not worth the risk they say. But every morning two creatures, one man and one ghoul, walk that crooked and crumbling path and neither is afraid…because they both know a secret. That at the very end of the path lies the most magical place on the Abbey’s grounds. 

The sun was still asleep as Secondo and Alpha walked along the forgotten pathway until they reached a chapel. Although it should be noted the chapel didn’t look much like a place of worship. It much better resembled an ancient ruin. Only three stone walls remained standing. Two were at half their original height and the third somehow still towered over Secondo’s head. There was no door. It had rotted away centuries ago, and the floor made of stone, was covered in a layer of dark green moss that was so thick it felt like a heavily weighted carpet underfoot. The only piece of furniture left in the ruins was an altar that had been crafted long ago from beautifully marbling petrified wood. But despite its well-worn appearance, when Secondo found this place years ago he immediately knew it was special. He could feel it in the air.  

Anyone who enters the Abbey, whether they are a follower of the Dark Lord or not, can feel dark magic around them. It’s often been described as an incorporeal haze. Although unseen, it lingers in every corner of the building and sits a bit heavy around you. In certain places, like the crypts and the ghoul dens, the haze is stronger. You can feel it physically. It brushes against your skin like a soft summer breeze or the flutter of silk bedsheets. But in all his years living in the Abbey Secondo never found anywhere where the haze was as strong as it was in the old chapel. 

So it’s here that every morning Secondo comes to start his day, to offer his thanks, and to hope that maybe today will be the day the Dark Lord finally speaks to him. Normally each morning in the crumbling chapel is the same. Secondo kneels before the altar repeats a round of prayers and offers any confession he deems necessary. Alpha kneels quietly beside Secondo and speaks only when spoken to. Any prayer the fire ghoul makes to his Lord is a silent one. This routine never changes. Every day is the same. 

But the morning after your stunt in Secondo’s bedroom, things went differently. Before Secondo could kneel Alpha was apologizing, spilling out words faster than Secondo could acknowledge them. 

“I’m so sorry about last night Papa. I didn’t want to disobey you. I should have never allowed it. I didn’t mean to offend-” Secondo held up a gloved hand and the fire ghoul caught his tongue. 

“It’s fine, Alpha.” 

The ghoul’s eyes snapped from the mossy ground up to his master, “Really? You’re not upset?” 

“Really,” Secondo answered truthfully. “I asked you to make sure she wanted for nothing and you did as I asked. I cannot be upset with you for that.” 

“Thank you, Papa,” Alpha sighed before bowing his horned head and inhaling deeply. Secondo eyed the ghoul carefully, looking over every inch of his guard. Alpha looked tired. Worn down. Exhausted. His shoulders rolled forward and his orange eyes looked more dull than normal. 

Secondo wondered if the fire ghoul was as burnt out as he was. 

Since his summoning two decades ago Alpha had always been a quiet ghoul. He hardly ever initiated conversations with humans and if the whispers around the Abbey were to be taken as truth, Alpha’s silence was born from his deep-seated distaste of human nature. Secondo knew that wasn’t really true but he saw how siblings often gave Alpha a wide berth when they passed him in the halls. He heard the names they called him. Most siblings avoided ghouls. But they practically ran from Alpha. 

Secondo never understood the cruelty. He had never really minded the fire ghoul’s reticence. He’d actually asked Primo for care of Alpha because he liked the ghoul’s quiet nature so much. It didn’t hurt that Alpha was more reliable and trustworthy than any sibling Secondo had ever met. 

And they had an understanding. 

Or so he thought. 

Secondo had always assumed that Alpha enjoyed their quiet moments together and lack of idle chit chat, but looking at the fire ghoul now he was starting to wonder if Alpha’s care was another item to add to his list of failures. Had he ignored signs that Alpha was struggling? Should he have been checking in with him more? Was Alpha suffering in silence like he was? Did he even like being by Secondo’s side? 

“Alpha?” 

“Yes.”

“Are you happy?” 

In all their time together Secondo had never asked Alpha that question. He wondered it many times but self-preservation had always held his tongue. Secondo had faults. He knew that. He wasn’t completely blind. But if Alpha hated him. If he hated his daily life then Secondo might just fall apart. He couldn’t be Papa alone. 

“What do you mean, Papa?” 

Santanas. 

He was going to have to spell it out. Secondo wanted to dig a hole in the moss under his feet and bury himself alive. 

“Are you happy by my side? Do you enjoy your life,” Secondo paused, swallowing against the self-preservation that had somehow turned to ash in his throat, “Do you enjoy your life with me?” 

Alpha blinked.

Secondo knew Ghouls were terrible liars. Something in their design made them brutally honest. It had something to do with being born from the brimstone of His fire. Or maybe it was because they were formed by the make of His hands? Secondo could never quite remember how the story went. Primo had told it to him so long ago when he was just a boy. But Secondo knew that while ghouls could joke and play around… for the most part they spoke plainly when asked direct questions. Normally that was something Secondo admired. He liked honesty. He liked people and creatures who spoke the truth. But right now Secondo wished Alpha was more human than hellspawn. He wished he would lie. He wished for anything but the truth because he knew it would sting. 

“No.” There it was. The answer he knew was coming. The sting hurt more than he’d expected. “No, most days I am not happy with you Papa.” 

Secondo turned away from Alpha and looked at the crumbling chapel wall. He felt like a fool. After so much failure the fire ghoul had been the only thing keeping him grounded. He’d been the only one who’d stood by his side. But now Secondo was realizing that maybe that was a bad thing. Maybe it was selfish to hold on so tight. Maybe he should set Alpha free. After all, why should two people drown in misery when one is far less cruel? 

“Would you like to return to Primo?” 

“No, Papa.” 

“Are you sure?” Secondo asked finding the courage to turn and look at his ghoul. “He will welcome you and your place in the band won’t change unless you want it to.” 

Alpha blinked again and Secondo tried to brace himself for another sting. “I don’t think my life here is about being happy. I know you’re doing important work and I want to be a part of your legacy.” 

Secondo didn’t know what to say. 

He didn’t know if he liked that answer. 

“But I was happy yesterday…” 

…with her. 

Alpha left the final two words unspoken and Secondo was thankful. His self-preservation was already teetering on the brink of collapse and he couldn’t bear to be pushed any further otherwise he’d have to die right here in this run-down place.

Secondo hummed in affirmation before closing his eyes. 

Alpha had been happy with you. 

You. 

Secondo thought of you. 

He thought of your eyes and how differently they had looked at Terzo last night. He thought of how happy and relaxed they’d been, pupils for once not blown wide from anger but instead sparkling with joy. Their iridescent color simply shining. He thought of your hair and how he’d finally seen it free from your veil. He thought of how soft your curls looked falling in waves around your bare shoulders. He thought of your face and how your lips had twisted up into that saccharine smile. A smile he’d never seen before and wondered if he’d ever see again. 

You had been happy. 

Alpha had been happy. 

Everyone in his entire damn room had been happy. 

There had been so much laughter, dancing, and joy. There had been so much happiness so much glee…and then he’d ruined it. Snuffed it out like depriving a flame oxygen. Secondo took a deep breath and tried to push away his own self-loathing. 

He thought of you again and the ache in his chest started to burn. It spread moving from deep in his lungs out until everything burned. Then suddenly Secondo started to cough. He coughed so hard that his eyes watered and Alpha immediately came to his side. A clawed hand gripping his shoulder. 

Secondo waved him off, trying to compose himself but the haze… it had never been this thick in the chapel before. Secondo could feel it sticking to his throat and sliding down into his belly. And then for the first time in his life, Secondo tasted dark magic. It was sweet like honey and floral like roses. 

If only he could have known how he would be chasing that flavor for the rest of his life. 

Apparently, you weren’t just Secondo’s Imperatrix. You were his assistant now too. 

You showed up to Secondo’s office at six am as he’d asked and were greeted with the biggest stack of paperwork you’d ever seen. The daunting thing dwarfed the tiny desk you’d been given and spilled onto the floor and over the carpet in Secondo’s office. There wasn’t much of an order to things and Secondo’s instructions on getting through the pile had been curt. Sign these. Edit this. Transcribe that. 

But truthfully you were thankful he didn’t have much more to say to you. You didn’t want to talk about what happened last night. You’d done enough of your own cross-examination, staying up half the night replaying it over and over and over again in your head while trying and failing to fall asleep. 

You’d nearly let him kiss you. What in the actual fuck had you been thinking? Papa Emeritus the Second. You’d actually let him corner you, and touch you, and tease you, and for some ungodly reason when it was all happening, you had wanted it. You had wanted him. Something in you had shifted and you became an animal motivated solely by the lust of their heat. Warmth had coiled in your belly like a snake and even a cold shower hadn’t been enough to quench what he’d started. Embarrassingly the only thing that eventually helped you get to sleep was the little battery-powered toy you kept in your bedside table. 

In the daylight of his office, knowing that you had made yourself come thinking about Secondo made you squirm. All that teasing had probably meant nothing to him anyway. You were probably just another sister in a long line of siblings he played games with. You felt toyed with like a mouse batted about by a house cat. Embarrassment was creeping in, especially since he hadn’t spent more than a few seconds looking at you since sat down at your new desk. 

Secondo was focused on his own stack of paperwork. While it wasn’t nearly the same size as yours he never seemed to take his eyes off it. He barely even took a second to blink. The man worked like a dog. 

If Secondo wasn’t signing papers he was on the phone. And when he wasn’t on the phone he was writing sermons and speeches and internal documents that were somehow all passed due. He never took a break, stretched his legs, or stopped for a sip of water. With everything expected of him, you started to realize there wasn’t time. There was always more to do, someone to answer to, or something that needed to be fixed. But Secondo was like a machine. He never ran out of steam. All you could do was try your best to keep up and before you knew it half the day was gone. 

Your head was pounding from so much reading and writing that you nearly cried tears of joy when the lunch bells rang. 

“Should I call the kitchens and tell them you’ll be in the dining room shortly, Papa?” 

You stood up for the first time in hours and walked around the desk, feeling the stiffness in your legs from sitting for so long. Secondo finally looked up from his work and his mismatched eyes met yours.

“No, I’m not hungry. Just bring me a cup of coffee and some water from the dining hall,” he replied coldly before turning back to his papers. You nodded and scurried out of his office thankful to finally look at anything besides the horde of papers. 

As you walked through the Abbey toward the dining hall you spotted Mountain as he tended to some of the Abbey’s ficus trees in the main hall. With a pair of sheers in his hand, he looked up and offered you a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. 

“Hey, little flower. How’s your head?” 

“Ugh,” you groaned posting up against the cool stone wall as you watched him primp and prune the small tree. “I don’t know why Alpha likes absinthe. I felt like there were bees in my head this morning.” 

Mountain chuckled before setting down his sheers and picking up a water canister at his feet. “Well, I had a great time. Dew won’t shut up about it either. Says he wants you to throw him a birthday party next week.” 

“Wasn’t his birthday last month?” 

“Yeah,” Mountain said moving further down the hall to another cluster of trees that needed watering, “but he said the one we threw him was lame.”  

“What?!” you cried following Mountain as he inspected the soil, digging his large fingers into one of the ficus’s pots. “He literally rode a bear!”

“I know! That’s exactly what I said. Little guy’s never satisfied,” he said shaking his head. “But anyway, how are you? Or maybe a better question is how much trouble are you in with Papa?” 

You paused for a moment and watched Mountain work. His fingertips idly traced the soft petals of a ficus tree inspecting it for rot and insect damage. It was amazing how such a large creature could care for something so fragile. 

“None,” you answered.“ I think Papa promoted me.” 

Mountain’s fingers froze over the leaves before he turned to look at you fully. “He what?” 

“I’m his assistant now I guess. He asked me to come to his office this morning and I’ve just been doing paperwork since. I was headed to get him some coffee now actually.” 

Even though Mountain was masked and the only sliver of his face you could see were his emerald eyes you could tell he was shocked. His dark green pupils blinked at you slowly, like he was trying to calculate the speed of the earth’s orbit divided by its distance to the sun. 

“You’ve got to be the only person in this place who can get away with what you did last night.” 

“Yeah maybe…” you trailed off before suddenly remembering something important you’d been meaning to ask Mountain. “Hey. While we're here I have a weird question for you. It’s about Primo’s garden.” 

“Shoot, little one.” 

“Have you seen any snakes out there lately?” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen any actually. Pretty sure Primo does some sort of magic to keep them away. Looking for a new pet?”

Apparently, you were going to have to take a trip out to the gardens and ask the old Papa some questions. But that was fine you were overdue for a chat with the eldest Emeritus anyway. 

“Nah. It’s a long story. There’s a lot I need to tell you. But I really need to get going,” you said picking up Mountain’s watering can and handing it back to the big ghoul. “I probably shouldn’t test Papa’s patience anymore after last night.”

“Why don’t you come to the dens tonight? Aeth is cooking and I can make you a batch of the new tea I’ve been working on.” 

“Sure Mount,” you called out over your shoulder already walking toward the dining hall, “See you then.”  

The dining hall was busy. 

Siblings and clergy members piled in from all corners of the Abbey, settling down at the long wooden tables for their midday meal. The room smelled of hearty stew and freshly baked bread. Summer was ending quickly and the kitchen staff had already started to transition from lighter fare to heavier, colder-weather meals. You’d miss the strawberry salads and cold gazpacho but fall was your favorite. Spiced cider, fresh apples from the orchard, warm shepherd's pie, those were the best. 

You grabbed a large tray from the end of the buffet and waited in line. With every minute that passed a quiet pounding started to grow against your temples. 

Thud. Thud.  

Thud. Thud. 

Thud. Thud. 

You could feel it. A migraine was starting to build. The warm food couldn’t come quickly enough. 

As you approached the front of the line, you selected a portion of the hearty stew with chunks of tender venison and root vegetables, a slice of warm crusty bread, and a generous helping of crisp apple slices drizzled with honey. 

“Is that all Sister?” One of the kitchen staff, an older brother with dark hair greying around his ears, asked. 

Thud. Thud.  

Thud. Thud. 

Thud. Thud. 

The pounding in your head grew louder. 

“Actually uh…” you stammered, looking down at your tray and smelling the delicious food. “Can I have a second serving of the same thing?” 

“Sure thing,” the brother replied with a kind smile, ladling another portion of the stew into a second bowl. 

Secondo might get pissed but you were going to bring him back food. If he was anything like you, or even remotely human, you wagered he was sporting a similarly splitting headache. 

You carried the loaded tray before collecting two cups of coffee and two glasses of water from the drink station. Balancing the stacked tray, you navigated through the bustling hall and carefully avoided any wandering feet and stray elbows. But just as you were about to walk out the door a high-pitched voice called your name. 

“Sister… sister wait up.” The corners of Sister Luciana’s lips quirked upward, but her twisted and forced smile didn’t reach her eyes as she jogged over to you. 

“Sister Luciana,” you replied, setting your heavy tray down on a nearby table. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh aren’t you so sweet,” she cooed and you had to bite your lip to keep from rolling your eyes. “I just wanted to see if you’re okay. No one’s seen you in two days and I’ve been so worried about you.” 

Satanas. How fake could one person be? 

“Thank you for your concern, Sister Luciana,” you replied politely, masking your annoyance. “I was under the weather but I’m better now.” 

It’d be a cold day in hell before you’d tell Luciana the truth that you’d blacked out in the catacombs after talking to Lucifer and were held hostage by Papa in his suite for 24 hours. 

“Glad to hear you’re feeling better,” Sister Luciana replied. Her eyes scanned you from head to toe like she was trying to catch the lie on you. “I gotta tell ya I heard some of the younger sisters talking, you know how they like to gossip, and some of them seem to think you’ve been promoted to Secondo’s assistant. There’s no way that’s true right? He wouldn’t choose you for that.” Luciana’s eyes darted from you to the tray and the two servings of stew steaming on it. 

It was people like Luciana who reminded you why you avoided friendships with siblings. Anyone overhearing your conversation probably thought she was a concerned friend. Merely a sweet sister who was worried about you after your prolonged absence. But you knew better. This conversation had nothing to do with you. Luciana only ever looked out for herself. If she was here in the dining room at lunch it meant she wasn’t in Papa’s dining room. She was just worried that someone was taking away her access to Papa. And for a sibling like Luciana power and status were everything. 

“You know how rumors spread like wildfire around here,” you said, forcing a casual laugh. “But who knows what goes on behind Papa’s doors right?”

The skepticism was obvious in Sister Luciana's eyes, but you tried to keep your expression neutral. She smiled at you again and wished you better health. Luckily you were able to slink away without her pestering you further. 

You briskly walked through the halls of the Abbey, the tray heavy in your hands as you made your way back to Secondo's office. The pounding in your head had only gotten worse after talking with Luciana, and with each step, you could feel your pulse beat through your skull. 

When you opened the door to his office, Secondo was in the same place you’d left him, seated at his desk with the big stack of papers in front of him. His brow was still furrowed deep in concentration. 

“I brought you some lunch,” you said, setting the tray down on the tiny open corner of your desk. “I know you asked just for coffee, but they had stew today and it just smelled so good I thought you might want some.” 

For the first time all morning, Secondo looked up from his work. His eyes darted between the tray of warm food and you. 

He stood from his desk and you braced yourself for a reprimanding. You closed your eyes and waited for the fire and fury to rain down on you. 

Thud. Thud.  

Thud. Thud. 

Thud. Thud. 

The pounding in your head shifted to your heart. 

Thud. Thud.  

Thud. Thud. 

Thud. Thud. 

It was going to burst. 

You shot your hand to your chest and rubbed tiny circles trying to massage away the pain. 

But then the cool slide of leather brushed against your chin and you opened your eyes. Pain forgotten, Secondo tilted your face to meet his gaze. You stared into marble white and mossy green. You had expected his eyes to darken the way they did when he was angry, the green becoming nearly black and the white more piercing than an arrow. But Secondo wasn’t looking at you like that. 

He looked thankful, pleased, and dare you say it… glad. 

There was a moment before you remembered to breathe. 

You could smell him. Cologne, spice, and incense. The swirling muddled scent clung to everything. You swallowed it all down but the beast from last night returned and it wanted more. 

To taste… would it be so bad to push forward and just have a taste of him?  

Your lips parted and you breathed in deeply. 

“Thank you,” he said simply, his voice barely above a whisper as his thumb brushed against your cheek. “You didn’t have to bring me this.”

Then without another word, Secondo’s gloved hand slipped from your jaw, he picked up his bowl of stew and returned to his desk. 

Thud. Thud.  

Thud. Thud. 

Thud. Thud. 

As Secondo walked away the pulse in your heart returned to your head. 

You’d almost let him do it again. 

You idiot. 

You foolish and reckless fucking idiot. 

What the fuck was he doing? 

Had he lost his damn mind? 

Between this morning's incident in the chapel and whatever the fuck was happening to him now Secondo needed a minute to just… be. He needed to collect himself. 

He was thankful for the stew. The monotonous motion of simply lifting his spoon from the bowl to his mouth and back again gave him some cover. And he was thankful for it because he was spiraling. His mind was all over the place and if he’d even pretended to go back to his sermon he was sure you would have seen right through him. 

He’d touched you. 

Again. 

He had touched you. 

The same way he had last night and it hadn’t been some kind of power play or show of dominance this time. He’d touched you simply because he’d wanted to thank you but words hadn’t felt like enough. But why… why didn’t words feel like enough? You’d just brought him soup. You hadn’t brought him the moon. 

Last night he had meant to tease you. All he’d wanted was to get you worked up again but somehow he’d ended up touching you. He’d cupped your jaw and slid into your space before even realizing what he was doing. And you looked at him the same way you had just now. 

Your lips had parted, your breath had held, your eyes had softened, pupils growing and darkening, lashes fluttering, cheeks turning red, and you had looked… you had looked just for a moment… just for the smallest sliver of a second like you didn’t hate him. Like he wasn’t a monster. And you had…

No. 

Stop it. 

Focus. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Secondo cleared his mind and forced himself to concentrate. You weren’t supposed to be a distraction. You were here to learn from him and to serve Him. Whatever tricks his mind was playing on him he would squash. He would bury them inside just like he did so many other of his emotions. He had to remember what was important. What was at stake. 

The catacombs. 

The book. 

His voice. 

His guidance. 

His legacy. 

You were another test. He couldn’t forget that so Secondo ordered himself to focus. He finished his lunch quickly and tried his best to avoid looking at you as he returned to his work… but the ache in his chest persisted, a gnawing hunger that had nothing to do with the stew he had just eaten. 

You sighed as you stared down at a particularly confusing text and Secondo couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed back from his desk. His papers now forgotten and stood abruptly. His chair screeched against the stone floor, echoing loudly in the room. 

He needed air. He needed space. He needed to get away from the suffocating walls that seemed to close in on him every time you were around.

“Papa?” you called out softly. 

Secondo ignored you and stormed past your desk, throwing open the heavy wooden doors to the hall. 

“Hello, son.” 

“Fucking hell!” 

Secondo jumped back from the door. In his jumbled mess of a mind, he’d forgotten about the meeting with his father. He glanced over at the clock above your desk.

Shit. 

He’d forgotten about the meeting he was supposed to have thirty minutes ago. 

“It’s rude enough that you didn’t come to my office on time. Now you’re going to just stand there and block the door. Move boy!” 

Secondo stuttered for a moment before stepping aside, allowing Papa Nihil to enter. Sister Imperator trailed closely behind him, pushing his oxygen tank as it creaked across the floor. In the corner of the room, Secondo saw you jump up from your desk and close the door behind Imperator. He’d forgotten to tell you about this meeting too. 

Shit. 

He hadn’t planned for anyone to be here for this. Meetings with his father never usually went well, and he’d like to spare himself the shame but it was too late to send you away now. 

Nihil and Imperator shuffled past Secondo and sat in the two tufted armchairs by the fireplace. Secondo moved to follow them, standing in front of the fire, and resting his elbow on the mantle. The heat from the flames licked at his back as he looked down at the elder pair. 

Nihil had always been a rotten bastard and a poor excuse for a father. How he’d managed to hold onto so much power in the Clergy, always amazed Secondo. He’d assumed, as did many others, that he would have been cast out of the church many moons ago if it weren’t for Imperator. It was she, he would need to placate today. She was the real power player in the room. 

Through the corner of his eye, Secondo watched as you sat back down at your desk and opened a little black notebook, readying yourself to take notes. He wanted to tell you not to bother. He’d never read them anyway. 

“Your lack of punctuality is concerning, my son,” Papa Nihil rasped, his voice muffled through the mask he held against his face. “Let’s hope you haven’t forgotten what we’ve come to discuss.” 

“I haven’t forgotten. I’ve been working hard on it. Last night I finished a new song. It’s called-” Imperator raised a hand silencing Secondo. 

“The clergy has concerns Papa. Have you reconsidered their offer?” 

If anyone else in the Abbey besides Imperator had asked that question Secondo would have barked out a list of insults so vile Satan would have blushed. 

“I understand,” Secondo said, forcing his tone to remain composed. “But I think the album is headed in a much better direction than the last time we spoke. Last night I-” 

“I don’t understand why he even needs to write a new album. Why can’t he just sing my songs and a few of his brothers? Wasn’t that the whole point of sending him out on that little tour last month? To see if this stronzo’s could even sing?” As Nihil prattled on Secondo glanced over at you, hoping to catch your eye, but you were too busy scribbling away in your notebook to notice him.

Imperator sighed loudly and Secondo looked back at the elder pair sitting before him. 

“You know why we need a new album, Nihil,” she scolded. “We need more followers. And new music is the best way to do that. It’s also why we have concerns over your album, Secondo. How will we attract more people to join us if your album is full of morose and macabre dronings? The clergy simply thinks a little outside collaboration will help spice things up. Help lift the veil a bit. Do you understand?” 

Secondo clenched his jaw and tried to swallow the boiling rage that threatened to spill over. The nerve of them to suggest diluting his art with outsiders, people who weren’t even members of their congregation. His music was sacred, a vessel for the Dark One's message, not some commodity to be watered down for the masses. 

“Honestly son, no one wants to hear it. Sathanas your lyrics aren’t even in English! Per Ad Ass whatever. See, I can’t even remember the damn title. How do you expect anyone to-” 

“I liked it.” 

Secondo’s eyes snapped to yours. 

You’d set your notebook down and were staring back at him, a meek little smile spread across your face. You pushed away from the desk and crossed the room, stopping beside him. Secondo swore the flames behind him jumped when the fabric of your habit brushed against his robes. 

Imperator raised an eyebrow, looking between you and Secondo with mild interest. Papa Nihil rolled his eyes.

“Sister if you're trying to get in this stronzo’s pants you don’t have-”

“Nihil enough,” Imperator growled, before turning toward you. “Please. Go on sister. What did you like about the song?”

Your eyes drifted from Secondo’s to the floor. Whatever had emboldened you a moment ago was slipping away. Your voice was soft as you started to speak. 

“I thought it was beautiful. I… I couldn’t get it out of my head after I heard it. There’s something… I don’t know something ethereal about it.”

As you shook your head Secondo balled his fist by his side. He wanted to tell you that you didn't have to do this. You didn’t need to stick up for him. Nihil would always have something negative to say and for as long as he’d known Imperator she had never been his biggest supporter. But your eyes flickered from the floor to his and all his thoughts went out the window.

“No, maybe ethereal’s not the right word. It feels like… well it feels like that moment when we all gather together for Black Mass on All Hallows Eve. Everyone’s excited. A little nervous. Lust. Devotion. Passion. All those feelings we share builds that electricity in the air. You can feel it in your chest. That night it… it feels like the best of us. Like the best of our church, I mean. Everyone gathered together on the one night of the year we all looked forward to most. When the veil is thin and for most of us it’s the closest we’ll ever get to Him.” 

“Sister,” Nihil whined impatiently, taking a drag of his oxygen, and tapping his long fingernails against the armrest of the chair, “get to the point.” 

“I just mean. His song. Per Áspera Ad Inferí. It reminded me of why I’m a member of this church. It reminded me of why I’m here. Even if I didn’t understand the words I think it’s beautiful.” 

A TIDAL WAVE. 

A TORNADO.

AN AVALANCHE.

All three are natural disasters that consume. They claim every square inch of calm and bring complete chaos. Disrupting all that was. 

People can rebuild. They can lay out new foundations, frame new homes, and pave new roads. But life is never the same. It can’t go back. The world will never be the same once the snow tumbles down, the wave crashes in, and the winds wreak havoc. 

As Secondo looked at you he felt like one of those towns he’d seen on TV destroyed by such nature. His world would never be the same. Every thought that he had held was squeezed out. His world was disrupted. Interrupted. Changed. By you. 

Sathanas. 

He thought to himself. 

You’re beautiful. 

You’re so fucking goddamn beautiful. 

In was in that moment that Secondo realized you were the most stunning creature he had ever seen. He had denied it, pushed it down, and tried to bury his attraction to you and focus on other things like his papacy, the rituals, and the Dark Lord himself. But how could he ignore it now? How could he push it down and bury this feeling somewhere deep when you’d gone and said something like that? 

You went ahead and talked about the music… his music, like it meant something. Like it moved you. Like you had understood the very thing that moved him and motivated him to write it. He didn’t know when you’d heard it but that didn’t matter. You’d stormed into his mind now and there would be no rebuilding it to how it was before. He couldn’t ignore it. 

Maybe he should have seen it coming. Secondo was only a human. And so far humans haven’t figured out how to stop storms before they start so maybe he should have realized he wouldn’t be able to keep this feeling locked up forever. But he was here now, wrecking his brain. He saw you now. 

And you were so beautiful. 

His attraction had been there since day one, just simmering under the surface waiting for the right moment to boil over. But now it was happening at the most inopportune time and Secondo couldn’t put it off one more fucking second longer. 

He knew when this started. 

It had been the moment Imperator laid your photo out next to the others. He remembered it clearly. He was supposed to pick his first batch of Imperatrix’s. It was a high honor and an important duty as Papa but he hadn’t been able to pull his eyes off your picture. You were smiling, standing in the warm summer sun down by the lake. Your hair was undone, long, and flowing beautifully past your shoulders and you were wearing that sundress. The sweet little yellow thing with white flowers and a hemline landing just above your gorgeous thighs. 

You’d stolen all of his attention in that moment. So much so that he hadn’t even cared to look at photos of the others. He’d picked five more sisters at random. It’d been you he wanted. It’s been you he couldn’t wait to see in the dining room that first day. It’d been you he made sure was given the nicest suite. The one with the largest bath and the prettiest view of the summer gardens. He’d been disappointed when you’d told him you wouldn’t participate in the rituals but he’d tried to move on. The ritual was supposed to be only an offering after all. He’d been selfish to think of anything else. 

But Santhas how he wanted to kiss you right now. He could just wrap you up in his arms, yank off your veil, grab a fistful of your hair, and leave you breathless. He could have you panting, whining, begging for more. He could do it right here in front of his father and Sister Imperator. Or better yet he could kick them out, pick you up, and push you down against his desk and show how good he could make you feel with just his hands and mouth before he even used his cock. 

Fuck he could just-

“Why are we listening to this girl when she can’t even speak Latin?!” Nihil's ancient voice sliced through Secondo’s thoughts. “She doesn’t know what would make a good performer. Sister,” Nihil turned to face Imperator in his chair, “he is not ready.” 

“I may not speak Latin,” you snapped, taking a step toward Nihil and lowering your voice until it became an angry growl, “but I know that Papa commands every room he walks into. So why should a stage be so different? Why wouldn’t he be ready?” 

You took another step toward Nihil, positioning yourself in between the old man and your Papa but Secondo couldn’t let you throw yourself to the wolves. He reached for you, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling you back to his side. He could feel your pulse throb with fury as his gloved fingers held you back. 

He wanted to pull you even closer and hold you against his chest but Secondo stopped himself. He was thankful for your defense but couldn't let you provoke Nihil any further, not when the consequences for you both could be dire. He needed you near. He needed you close. He wouldn’t let Nihil send you away for your insolence. 

Not now. 

Not now that you had finally consumed him. 

Imperator leaned back in her chair and observed, watching the exchange between you, Secondo, and Papa Nihil. She rested a finger on her chin, deep in thought. 

“Papa Nihil, your concerns have been duly noted. But, I believe the sister's perspective holds merit. Secondo you may continue with the album as planned for now. We will meet again in one month to discuss your progress.”  

Nihil grumbled under his breath but eventually nodded in reluctant agreement. “Fine,” he said. “But he needs to prove himself. We can't afford any more fuckups. Capisci?”

“Sì,” Secondo answered, biting down on his cheek until the taste of cooper filled his mouth, “Capisco, padre.” 

A week had passed since your promotion to Secondo’s assistant. 

The job wasn’t easy, but you’d learned his routines quickly enough. A cappuccino in the morning. Reading glasses cleaned and on the left side of his desk before his arrival. A fire hot and roaring before he entered and freshly-cut firewood kept stacked in the rack by the door. 

The work itself was usually the same. Every morning Secondo started with the pile of papers on his desk. Signing, editing, and transcribing. As Papa, it was his duty to understand all the traditions and rituals of the church while guiding his flock toward or against the known and unknown dogmas. 

All important clerical duties were done by lunch. In the afternoon, Secondo dedicated himself to his music. He wrote, sang, and played his guitar, a beautiful acoustic thing with a solid Sitka spruce top and touches of emerald green around its body. Most days Secondo didn’t leave his office when he worked on his album, preferring to play by the fire. But sometimes he did wander down to the music room, where the walls are padded and he could mix tracks when he felt so inclined. On those days his most trusted ghouls usually joined him. Alpha. Omega. Aero. Crust. 

The nighttime was reserved for sermons. Secondo wrote and practiced them over and over again until his message was clear and memorized completely. You never realized how much detail was packed into each line he delivered at mass until that week. Every word served a purpose, every phrase held a deeper meaning. 

Through it all you helped Secondo the best that you could. You learned that he was meticulous about his robes and paints, both of which he wore every single day, so you started keeping lint rollers in his office and a pot of his special facial paints in your pocket at all times. You learned inspiration could strike him at any moment so you also carried a little black notebook and a pen in case he ever needed to jot something down. 

Alpha was around most days and you were so thankful for that. You enjoyed your time together when he did play bodyguard, posting up inside Secondo’s office like a sentinel. He occasionally would slip you little cartoons he’d draw of you or Papa. He was a talented artist and you wondered if all ghouls were born with such creativity. You wanted to ask him but for some odd reason, Secondo kept giving him time off saying things like “go enjoy yourself” or “make sure to rest.” It was strange, seeing Secondo pretend to care about someone else. 

Most days you didn’t speak to Secondo and the two of you worked side by side in total silence. Although on more than one occasion you did catch him staring at you, you tried your best to stay out of his way and anticipate anything he needed.  

Neither of you had taken a single meal in the dining hall in the past week either. There was too much to do and too few hours in the day to do it all. It’d become clear that Secondo’s last assistant was less than organized and the backlog of work she’d inadvertently created felt neverending most days. 

Every night when you dragged yourself back to your suite you felt the same. You were tired. You were body-aching, head pounding, feet burning, doggone tired. You’d never worked so hard in your entire existence and your social life, as modest as it was before, practically vanished overnight. Your world became absolutely consumed by Secondo’s. 

It’s been a week since you’d been able to see your friends in the ghoul dens. You never made it down for Aether’s cooking or Mountain’s tea the day he had invited you. You’d apologized for missing out when you bumped into Mount days later. He’d been kind and understanding, offering you a hug that you needed more than you realized. And since then he’d taken it upon himself to leave little snacks and energy drinks in your suite every night. 

“You need the energy, little flower,” he had said when he’d delivered you the first round of goodies.

The other ghouls helped out too. Aurora and Cumulus surprised you with little pink Post-it notes on your bathroom mirror full of encouraging messages and adorable drawings. Aether also brought you your favorite wine. And Dew brought you his favorite weed. Swiss, the chaotic little sweetheart that he was, lent you two piles of his favorite records. 

“Music to put you to sleep and music to get you going in the morning,” he had said when dropping them off at your door. 

At some point, you’d eventually figure out a way to thank everyone. You just needed a minute away from Secondo before that could ever happen. But today wasn’t going to be that day. 

It was Saturday evening and while most of the Abbey was preparing for a night of sin and revelry you were with Secondo, holed up in his office and staring down a stack of receipts that needed approving. Alpha had left several hours earlier and the sun was setting outside, casting a warm orange glow through the open window behind Secondo’s desk and a cool breeze swept through the room. 

Secondo had set aside his latest sermon and was plucking away at his guitar. You stole glances at him every now and then, watching the way his ungloved slender fingers danced over the strings with effortless grace. 

The song was different from the rest he’d been working on. This one was slower. Softer. If anyone else had been playing it you might even dare say it was sweeter. 

“Ghuleh… Ghuleh…” 

Secondo sang, his voice rising over the crackling fire and gliding over you like the breeze from the open window.

“Ghuleh… Ghuleh…” 

You set your pen down and watched him. For all the vial names you wanted to spew at Secondo, you couldn’t deny him two things. The first was that the man had the voice of a fallen angel. You could easily imagine falling down again into the black void and meeting one of His princes. Maybe Belial or Beelzebub. You could imagine how they would probably sound the same if they sang. Confident, verging on arrogant but soft enough to corrupt any innocence they crossed. 

And the second thing you couldn’t deny Secondo was just how much you liked his voice. You could listen to him sign anything. The Macarena. Happy Birthday. God damn Barbie Girl. Honestly, it didn’t matter what Secondo was singing you’d listen to it all just to hear the way his voice could flit between light and delicate to those guttural deep growls that made your cheeks warm and red. 

You subtly reached up to your cheek and tried to hide the shame that they were indeed flushing red again. 

But luckily Secondo wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was elsewhere. His mismatched eyes were busy staring into the fireplace’s flames as he sang. 

“Putrefaction. A scent that cursed be. Under coat of dust. From the darkness. Rise a succubus.” 

On the last word, Secondo stopped, turned his head, and stared at you. If your cheeks had been tinged pink before they were bright red now. 

You had to say something. 

“That was beautiful.” 

Secondo’s gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat before he looked away. His fingers stilled on the guitar strings. Then Secondo did two things you never thought possible. He thanked you and he smiled. 

The deep-set corners of his eyes that were so often set in a frown shifted upwards. And his lips followed course. Moving big and wide. You were surprised at how nice it looked on him. How handsome his chiseled face was when he twisted it this way. Not that you ever thought you’d see it, but when you had imagined Secondo’s smile you’d thought it would be awkward, forced, and uncomfortable. But nothing about the way he looked at you now made you feel any of those ways. 

You don’t know why. But his thanks his smile…it felt like a truce.

Even if he didn’t know why you hated him and even if you didn’t know why he hated you something about the moment felt like a ceasefire. A break in the lingering feud between you both. You still hated him for what he’d said to you. And probably still despised you for your disobedience but right now… right now you could just co-exist. Right now that hatred didn’t feel important. Something else mattered. You weren’t sure if you could name it. But you felt it, fluttering in your chest and flickering on the tip of your tongue.  

Maybe the moment was getting to Secondo too, because he set his guitar aside and stood up, walking over to the window to watch the sun sink lower in the sky before rubbing his temples. 

You’d learned over the week that despite the front Secondo tried to put on he was indeed human. And he was a human being who suffered from pounding headaches just like you. 

“Headache, Papa?” 

“Nothing that won’t go away on its own, sorella,” he said despite mixing the white and black paint at his temples into a grey mess, as he moved his fingers in tiny circles. 

“Maybe you should take a break. Is there something you do to relax?” 

Secondo turned from the window and blinked at you. He looked surprised.

“I don’t have time for that.” 

You pushed away from your chair and reached into the pocket of your habit, pulling out a cotton handkerchief before handing it to Secondo and pointing to the grey smudges on his fingertips. 

“Well how about you take your guitar and I’ll take some of these,” you pointed back toward the stack of receipts on your desk, “and we’ll just go somewhere that’s more relaxing.” 

“Somewhere more… relaxing?” He repeated, eyeing you curiously.

“Yeah, maybe a change of scenery could help clear your mind.”

The idea seemed to intrigue Secondo. His gaze flickered between you and the window where the last rays of orange sunlight were fading fast. After a moment, he let out a sigh and nodded. 

“Lead the way, sorella.”

Secondo had lived in the Abbey his entire life and while he knew plenty of secrets about the old place he had never been here before. 

You had led Secondo through the Abbey into an abandoned classroom on the top floor of the eastern wing and climbed out its window. Then you’d scampered up onto the roof, where a black and red plaid blanket had already been waiting. A tin bucket sat next to one of the brick chimneys and Secondo peaked inside, noticing half a dozen smoked-down joints. 

You sat down on the blanket, deftly crossing your legs at your ankles, and waved at Secondo to join you. Secondo couldn’t help but think what a pair you two must make. What would people think if they saw you? A young Imperatrix, dressed in her most conservative black habit, not an inch of skin showing, and him…Papa Secondo, clad in all the finest regalia of his station donning black robes, mitre, and all. Even though the sun was almost fully set Secondo doubted that any sibling wandering the grounds below would be able to see either of you. But still, he felt subconscious about his dress. He normally didn’t mind people staring. But up here with you, he’d rather not draw stares. So he pulled off his mitre and gently set it on the roof before joining you on the blanket with his guitar. 

While the plaid blanket was decently sized, Secondo was forced to sit relatively close to you. Just a handful of inches separated the two of you. So he kept his eyes fixed on the horizon in an attempt to distract himself from the proximity and began plucking away at the strings of his guitar. Normally, keeping his hands busy was enough to distract himself. 

But tonight it wasn’t cutting it. Secondo couldn’t focus. 

Being here with you was so much different than his office or the music room. This felt too intimate. Two people, lying under the stars, with music in the air, this felt more like a date than the tail end of a long working day. And while Secondo was ready to admit that you were beautiful he wasn’t ever going to be the kind of man that took sisters like you on dates. He was missing that thing in him that sought out companionship, or the type of love that made people weak and vulnerable. Secondo was determined never to let himself be so at the mercy of another person. 

“I’ve never brought another human up here before?” Your voice cut through his idle strumming.

“Human?” 

“Yeah,” you said fidgeting with your habit. “I’ve only ever brought the ghouls up here.” 

Secondo raised an eyebrow. Most siblings were terrified of ghouls. But you were apparently comfortable enough to lay with them under the stars. Who were you? 

“The ghouls… they are your friends?” 

“They’re my only friends.” 

For two people who have spent every waking minute together over the past 7 days, Secondo realized then he knew absolutely nothing about you. He shifted on the blanket, moving his long under his thighs. Then he turned his broad shoulders in your direction so he could look at you fully. He hoped you look back at him. 

But you avoided his eye contact and stared up into the sky. 

The moonlight glistened on your face, casting shadows in the hollows of your cheeks and Secondo was struck by how ethereal you looked, like a beautiful unholy being bathed in silver light. 

“You are beautiful, sorella.” 

The words were out of Secondo’s mouth before he realized it. They’d simply escaped, like taking a breath, without any consciousness. 

But Secondo didn’t want to take them back. They were the truth and he couldn’t rewind time. All he could do was wait for you to say something… anything. The minutes stretched like hours. But you weren’t going to answer. You had frozen in place and the only thing that emerged from your lips were shaky and nervous breaths that puffed out into the cold night like little clouds. 

Then Secondo did something stupid. He spoke again. 

“You don’t like me do you?” 

This time your eyes snapped quickly to Secondo’s and nothing could have prepared him for how much angry fire was burning behind them. 

“Fuck you.” 

“W-what?”

“I said fuck you, Papa,” you spat out Secondo’s title with ugly disdain and dug a pointed finger hard into his chest. “You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met in my life. I bet you don’t even remember what you said to me do you?” 

Secondo tried to rack his brain. He tried to think of any interaction. Any possible bump in the halls, or faux pau in the dining halls. He’d only known you for a week. He’d never spoken to you before seven days ago. What the hell could he have done in that time to make you hate him so? 

As Secondo looked at you, it was obvious he didn’t remember. There was no flicker of recognition. No flashback running through his mind. 

And somehow that felt so much worse. How could he not remember when you’d never forget? 

“Sorella,” Secondo pled, “Tell me please. What did I do to you?”

Chapter Text

One year earlier…

For four days, it had rained. Colossal and violent, water had fallen so hard that the streets of the village outside the Ministry had flooded, turning dirt pathways into rivers of mud. The nearby townsfolk had huddled in their homes, praying to all the gods they knew for it to stop, but with each passing hour, their hopes dimmed and their prayers remained unanswered. 

It was close to midnight on the fourth night when you stumbled drunkenly into the sacristy alongside your favorite gaggle of ghouls. Even though this part of the ministry was off-limits at this hour, you weren’t worried about being caught. Other than the continuous booms of thunder, the Abbey had been relatively quiet. Most of the siblings and clergy were in their beds, too scared of the unending storm that had somehow gained even more strength over the last few hours. 

But you weren’t afraid. You were too drunk and blissfully happy to care about something as silly as thunder and lightning, especially since there was something important to celebrate. The fourth day of the apocalyptic storm also happened to be the anniversary of Mountain’s summoning. And much like a sibling’s birthday, a ghoul’s summoning day was something to celebrate. Especially since their existence in the church was at the pleasure of their earthly masters and it was no small feat to survive the fickle moods of powerful men.

But getting drunk and sneaky around the Abbey hadn’t been your initial plan. You had scheduled a whole day of other events. Hiking in the local park, a picnic by the lake, apple picking in the afternoon. But the storm had other ideas. So you pivoted, stayed inside, and for the last few hours, you and the ghouls had played drinking games in the dens until your giggling and laughter had drowned out the rain.

Somewhere along the line, maybe after the third or fourth round of flip cup, someone had the bright idea to play papal dress up, which was how you found yourself pulling open the set of wooden doors to an armoire in the sacristy. 

“Oh, sweet baby Lucifer.” 

“They’re so fuckin’ shinyyyyyyy!” 

Swiss and Dew reached over both your shoulders to grab greedily at the papal vestments in front of you. Swiss pawed at the black and red robe, pulling it unceremoniously from its hangar, while Dew’s wiry frame nearly toppled you into the closet as he reached for a sparkly mitre that he quickly plopped onto his head.

“Hey, watch it, fire fingers,” you chided at Dew, who was busily spinning around like a ballerina with his new sparkly accessory. 

“Sorry, babes,” the fire ghoul said, offering you a smile, before pulling you to his chest and spinning you with him in tight, dizzying circles. “You know I can’t help it. I like my shiny things. Will you ever forgive me?” 

You giggled as Dew pouted his bottom lip and spun you faster and faster until your feet left the ground and the room started to blur into a mirage of muddled colors. A buzzy warmth spread from your stomach, shifting your own pout into a wide-brimmed smile. 

“Okay, okay,” you laughed, patting Dew on his surprisingly lean shoulders. “I forgive you. Now put me down and help me pick out something.” 

“Sure thing, little lady. One fancy papal outfit coming right up.” 

The muscles in your cheek ached from smiling as Dew set you back on your feet. It was silly nights like tonight that you felt most at home in the church. The ghouls had become a family you’d never expected to have. Unconditional in their support and boisterous in their laughter, they always remained ready to lift you up from the darkest depths. You’d avoided falling into those black pits lately, and for that, you were eternally grateful. 

“What about this one?” Dew held up a robe, and your eyes widened.

It was beautiful. Sathanas no. Beautiful wasn’t a strong enough word. Emerald green fabric shimmered like liquid moss, and intricate silver threading glowed in the dim candlelight. You reached out.

You’d never seen this robe before. It hadn’t been one of Primo’s or Nihils. This beautiful green hadn’t been either of their colors. They’d preferred darker shades of black and red. And you’d never seen something like this in one of the history books either. The Papas of the past hadn’t been this flashy. Their taste had been simpler. 

But here it was… stunning and beautiful, the most gorgeous green you’d ever seen, hanging on the tip of Dew’s clawed and blackened fingers. It called to you. Whispering in your mind. 

Touch me. 

Feel me. 

Wear me. 

You couldn’t resist. You slipped the robe over your head. 

“Sister, look!” 

You spun around to find Cumulus and Aurora holding up a matching mitre and silver staff. Moments later, you were dressed head to toe in the finest papal vestments you’d ever seen. The rest of the ghouls continued to dig around the sacristy until, eventually, another bright idea was born. 

Mountain’s warm hand wrapped around your waist as he hoisted you up onto the altar, where Swiss stood dressed in his own silver and black robe. He twirled Primo’s silver staff above his head with surprising grace. 

“You ready for this little human? Cause I’d hate to break you on Mounty’s special day.” Swiss’s eyes flickered with mischief as he gestured to the rest of the ghouls who were gathered around. 

Cumulus and Aurora were holding a pair of chalices they had found, filled with what smelled suspiciously like sacramental wine, while Aether and Dew had chosen sides and named themselves respective coaches. 

“Put him in the ground, sister!” Dew growled, before sticking out his forked tongue at the multi-ghoul opposite you. 

You turned around and winked at your coach/ favorite fire ghoul. “Oh, don’t worry, Dew. He doesn’t stand a chance.” 

“That’s right, baby! You got this! Now turn that dumb ass ghoul into Swiss cheese.” 

“Oh, you’re next, little man,” Swiss said, flipping the staff in his hand before slamming it onto the marble altar with a bang mirroring the crackling thunder outside.

“Alright. Alright,” Mountain tried to placate as the night's designated official. “Let’s set some ground rules before anyone turns anyone into cheese, okay?” You and Swiss nodded simultaneously as you twirled your own staff back and forth in your hands and squinted menacingly at him. 

“No biting. No slapping. No pushing. No magic.” 

“Awwww mannn,” Swiss and Aether whined simultaneously. 

“That was our whole strategy, Mount.” Aether threw his hands up in the air and plopped himself on the ground like an adorable giant petulant child. 

“Well, you’re gonna need a new one Aeth,” Mountain continued. “You can poke, prod, and trip with your staffs. The first human or ghoul to fall off the altar is the loser. Winner gets first dibs on the new weed I’ve been growing.” 

“Oh, it’s on now, sister. That green is mine!” 

“In your dreams, Swisstopher.” 

“Okay, everyone ready?” Mountain moved to the front of the altar with the rest of the ghouls. 

“Yeah.” 

“You bet.” 

“Okay then. On my count. 3. 2. 1. Fight!” 

“En grade, mon ami!” 

Swiss lunged forward with his staff aimed directly at your midsection. You sidestepped just in time, countering with a swift jab of your own that connected with his ribs. He grunted as he stumbled back, regaining his balance with a wicked grin plastered on his face. Swiss was surprisingly agile for someone of his size, dodging and parrying your strikes with ease. But you were quicker on your feet, matching his every move with a counter of your own. For several minutes, you parried back and forth, giggling and smiling, encouraged by your closest group of friends. 

But then, as Swiss made another attempt to knock you off balance, you saw an opening and swiftly swept his legs out from under him. With a yelp, he stumbled and teetered off the edge of the altar, arms windmilling wildly like a cartoon coyote in a desperate attempt to regain his footing. In that split second, you lunged forward and lightly tapped his chest with the end of your staff, sending him toppling backward off the altar. The ghouls erupted into cheers and applause as Swiss landed in a heap on the floor, defeated.

You tossed your staff toward Dew and raised your arms in victory. “Your winner by technical knockout-” 

“I think that’s a boxing term, lovey. Not fencing.” Mountain shook his head but smiled up at you.

“Shhhhh, don’t steal my spotlight.”

“You’re right. Apologies. Continue.”

“Your winner by technical knockout, world champion of papal jousting…ME!” The ghouls cheered as Swiss picked himself up from the floor. “Bow to your queen, you beautiful hellspawns!” You stood triumphantly on the altar, basking in the adulation as Aurora and Cumulus started to chant your name. 

But just as you were about to revel in your triumph, the candles flickered and a chill crept through the air and the hairs on your arms raised. A shiver ran down your spine. Thunder boomed and lightning crashed louder, like it had struck the ground right outside the chapel’s windows. The ghouls fell silent. Their eyes darkened, and their wagging tails stilled.

You look toward Mountain, hoping to find reassurance in him. A calm smile he so often wears. A soft light in his eyes. Anything to hold on to… but you only found panic. His dark skin seemed to have lightened, shifting from midnight black to an ashen shade of gray, and his chest moved quickly, like he was struggling to catch his breath. He was scared. Everyone was.

Something was coming. 

Flanked by Alpha and Omega, Secondo left the crypts after four days and nights trying to speak with Lucifer. He was exhausted. Every inch of his body hurt, but somehow his soul was in worse shape. He had never questioned his faith in his entire life, but for the last few days, he had. He had questioned it all. His family. His religion. His Lord. He was so low, so beyond disappointment and despair that he went as far as to question his own life. 

If he could not be a Papa worthy of the Old One, then why, he wondered, should he even walk in these hallowed halls? Why should he wear the crown? Why should he walk on the earth at all? 

As he left the crypts, stumbling from exhaustion up the stone steps back toward the main hall, he wondered if he should head to the gardens instead. There he could lie down, close his eyes, and never open them again. At least in the ground, he could have a purpose for the worms. Maybe he was meant to be fertilizer for the fiori. Maybe that was all he was good for. 

At the top of the stairs, Secondo leant his forehead against the heavy wooden door that separated the hall from the stairs. The wood grain dug unpleasantly into his skin. But Secondo didn’t care. He needed to catch his breath. He hadn’t eaten in days, and climbing the stairs had felt like a marathon, draining him of the very little energy he had left. He would need to go slowly to his chambers. There were three more flights of stairs along the way, and he was already lightheaded. Sparkly little dots crossed the back of his eyelids. If he wasn’t careful, he knew he could pass out at any moment

Resting against the door, Secondo could hear the thunder boom. Primo had told him about the storm two nights ago, claiming his poor fiori were drowning. Secondo hadn’t cared much. The gardens would recover. He might not. But then Secondo heard something that made his heart leap. A voice, soft yet strong, floated from the chapel. 

Could it be? Could it be that She had come to deliver His message? 

With dwindling strength, Secondo pushed himself off the door and entered the hall. The voice grew louder. Dripped in honey, it sang sweet praises. Secondo couldn’t get to it fast enough. Moving too quickly, he tripped again, falling roughly to his knees. He was sure his body would bruise from the fall, but he didn’t care. He was a desperate man, so he crawled on hands and knees along the stone toward the chapel, toward what he hoped would be his reward for his self-abasement. 

Secondo pushed himself off the floor at the entrance to the chapel. He would grovel for her if She asked, but he wanted to offer her the chance to see him standing tall. To see him proud. He pushed open the door. It gave way with a groan, and there She stood, on the altar, dressed in his robes, looking more beautiful than all the ministry’s sacred scriptures had described. She was perfection. She was a consummate embodiment of the Dark One. She was everything. 

“Lilith,” he whispered her name. 

Secondo felt exalted. 

She had come. Come to deliver His message. Lilith was his reward for his pain and suffering, for all that he had endured over the last few days. And She was perfect. So perfect. Like She had chosen to take this form just for him. 

But then she spoke, bumbling an apology and tripping like he had, ungracefully and all too human-like, down from the altar, and Secondo knew then this wasn’t Her. Lilith would never apologize for this. For standing so beautifully in the chapel, for honoring him by wearing his robes. She would never apologize for being his prize. 

It was then he knew the truth. This wasn’t Lilith. This wasn’t even honor. This was something so much worse. This was mockery. This was failure. This was an embodiment of his shame. 

Quickly, his rapture turned to wrath. 

Your eyes darted from Mountain to the chapel entrance. 

Your stomach dropped when you saw your newly appointed Papa in the doorway. While Secondo often had a scowl permanently chiseled into his face, something about the hard set of his jaw and the way he balled his gloved leather fists at his side made you want to curl up and hide. Secondo wasn’t mad. He was furious. Suddenly, the elaborate papal robe you were wearing felt incredibly heavy on your shoulders. 

You clambered off the altar and stumbled over an apology. A slew of I’m sorry’s sloshed out of your mouth and into one another in rapid succession. 

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” 

You quieted as Secondo's voice echoed through the chapel, sharp and filled with boiling hot rage. The ghouls scrambled to straighten up as he strode forward. Even Dew, the most brazen of your favored ghouls, cowered slightly. 

"Papa, we were just-" Mountain was cut off by a raised hand from Secondo.

“I wasn’t speaking to you, ghoul. I was speaking to the sorella. The one who thinks it’s okay to desecrate this sacred space with her mockery!” Secondo's mismatched gaze bore into you, and you swallowed hard against the lump lodged in your throat. 

“Secondo, I-”

“SECONDO?!”

Shit. 

You hadn’t meant to call him that. 

Why had you said that?

“You, a lowly junior sister. A sister who is nothing dares to call her newly appointed Papa, Secondo?! Who do you think you are? You think you can mock me, wear my robes, and stomp around like you matter to this church?” 

Another bout of thunder boomed, and a gust of wind shook the windows. 

But in that moment, all you wished for was that Secondo would stop staring at you because his gaze was starting to burn, like flames licking you from the inside, twisting and melting you down to a puddle of liquid entrails. Everything burned. Everything hurt. You wished he would break away and look at one of the ghouls… for just a moment. Just a second, a breath of time. Just long enough so you could collect yourself and find some strength, but as Secondo stopped inches from you, you knew he wanted you to squirm. He wanted you to feel small, to feel like a tiny creature he could crush under his shoe… and he was succeeding. 

“I-I am s-so sorry P-papa.” You stuttered. “I…I…” 

Thunder rolled, cracking down loudly enough that you jumped, and Secondo seized the moment, pouncing on your fear. 

Whatever remaining lucidity Secondo had possessed was shattered the moment he realized you weren’t Lilith. Without hope, pain slammed into his body, and he felt everything again. He felt the blisters open and weeping blood on his feet. He felt the emptiness of his stomach, gnawing like a bloodthirsty animal at his insides. He felt the piercing pain behind his dried-out and bloodshot eyes. And worse yet, his mind teetered on the brink of delirium, grasping desperately for coherence in a haze of sleep deprivation.

Secondo couldn’t hold it together anymore. He had to scream at the Old One. But the Old One wasn’t there. So you would have to do. He could barely see the shape of you before him, but it didn’t matter. You were going to become the vessel to receive all the things that had built up inside him. So he screamed. He yelled. He let out everything that had formed within him. Angry words meant for his Maker became hostility pointed at you. 

“How could YOU do this?” 

“How could YOU care so little about the ministry?” 

“How could YOU fail the church this way?” 

Just like the Old One, you didn’t answer and that crushed Secondo, crumbling his already minuscule self-worth down to ground. His anger at the Dark One shifted leaving only self-hatred in its wake. Secondo yelled at you all the darkest things in his mind… all the awful thoughts he had about himself. 

“YOU are nothing!” He screamed. “YOU are a failure! YOU are worthless, a blight upon our God, our religion, our ministry! YOU think you deserve to be here?” Secondo's voice cut through the chapel like a sharpened blade, booming even over the thunder, each word punctuated by his seething anger and pain.“YOU think YOU are worthy of wearing those sacred vestments? YOU are nothing but a stain on this holy ground!” His eyes blazed with fury, and every ounce of self-loathing he harbored was unleashed until he said finally, “Tomorrow YOU will leave and never return.”

You couldn’t hold back the tears that had welled in the corner of your eyes any longer. It was too much. He was too cruel. And so you cried. The muscles in your cheeks twitched, and fat, heavy tears rolled down your face. You could taste the salt as it hit your trembling lips. While you may not have had many friends in the ministry, no one had ever talked to you like this. No one had ever made you feel this small… this inferior… this worthless. A piece of your heart cracked in your chest, and you felt like dust. 

As Secondo's tirade reached its peak, you heard his voice crack, and the flames of rage that had fueled him flickered. He swayed slightly before stumbling and falling hard to his knees. Alpha and Omega rushed to his side before gathering him under each arm and helping him to his feet. Whatever anger had been fueling Secondo seemed to have run out after that. The rest of the ghouls exchanged worried glances as Secondo was helped to his feet, but you stood frozen in place. The tears continued to flow down your cheeks and you made no move to wipe them away. 

As the heavy doors closed behind Alpha, Omega, and Secondo, Mountain approached you cautiously. “Are you okay?" he asked softly, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm.

“No, Mount,” you sniffled. “What am I going to do? This place is all I have.” 

…

You spent the next week in a state of constant anxiety, dreading the moment when Secondo would make good on his word and expel you from the church. Every creak of a floorboard, every whisper of the wind through the corridors, every accented voice in the halls had you on edge, waiting for the inevitable confrontation that never came. 

And when you did catch glimpses of Secondo in passing, he had looked through you. It was his cold indifference that cut deeper than any anger or harsh words he had spat at you before.

How could he forget what you’d always remember? 

Chapter Text

It was too early for so much noise. But it came anyway. Loud, angry, and incessant from the other side of your door.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

You pushed the covers off yourself and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. It wasn’t hard to brush away the tendrils of sleep since you’d hardly slept at all. You glanced at the clock—4:30 AM.

Who could possibly need you at this ungodly hour?

Then it hit you, square in the chest and suddenly it was hard to breath, like every molecule of oxygen had been sucked out of the air and replaced by something to heavier…

What if…

What if he remembered?

Last night, you’d stormed off after telling Secondo, the leader of the ministry, the most unholy man on this god-forskaen planet, that he should go ahead and fuck himself. You hadn’t glanced over your shoulder as you crawled off the roof, but surely what you’d said had been enough to drive him into a rage.

Shit.

You were really in it now.

As you slipped on your silk robe and slowly shuffled to the door, you wondered if your words had been enough to trigger his memory. Did he remember his promise? Did he remember that he had meant to kick you out of your home? Did he remember how little he once thought of you? Secondo’s rage often came with consequences. Maybe it was finally time to face yours. Maybe right now… at 4:30 am, your time at the Ministry was finally up.

Your heart pounded as you approached the door. Your hand hesitated on the doorknob, unsure of what awaited you on the other side. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you turned the knob and opened the door.

Luckily, standing before you was not Secondo in a rage, but rather a tired-looking Brother. You didn’t know his name, but you’d seen him before. He worked under Sister Imperator and often trailed behind her stilettoed pumps while carrying her comically large purse. The man was short with dark hair that mirrored the dark bags under his eyes. And right now his lips were pressed into a thin line, a clear sign of his impatience or maybe annoyance to be knocking on your door at such a ridiculous hour.

Without a word, he handed you a piece of paper. Your eyes quickly flipped over the looping script.

Papa Emeritus II has been called away. No duties are required of you until his return.

Maybe he should have waited for the sun to rise before dispatching Brother Alavan to your suite, but Secondo hadn’t slept well. Every time he’d closed his eyes, all he could see was you bathed in silvery moonlight and staring at him with blistering disdain. He knew he should have been furious at your insolence, at the angry words you had hurled at him. But he wasn’t. You hated him, and all he wanted was to know why.

Before last night, a small part of Secondo had been excited about his upcoming trip to the small abbey in Viviers, France. As the newly elected Papa, it was his duty to make selected appearances at the smaller abbeys that dotted Europe. He would meet with the senior members, discuss current teachings, and handle some more mundane housekeeping duties. But there would be free time too. And it was this free time that he had been excited to share with you.

He had planned to walk with you through the winding stone French streets and stop at his favorite wine shop. There was a particular bottle of saccharine orange wine he had found in the store years ago when Primo had brought him along for one of his many visits. Secondo knew you preferred sweet things. He’d noticed that when you brought lunch back to his office, you often indulged with some sort of small sweet treat. Pears dripped in honey, lemon tea cakes, apple crumbles. Surely you would love the wine here too.

Secondo had imagined sitting with you at one of the small wooden tables overlooking the town square, where he would have explained to you how the skin on the white wine grapes had not been removed but rather stayed in contact with the juice for six months to produce a unique and complex flavor. He’d imagined you tilting the delicate little glass back and the cool crisp wine sliding over the plump curve of your lips and into your slender throat. He had imagined your eyes closing as you savored the taste on your tongue. He’d imagined a smile as sweet as the wine.

But those dreams had crumbled last night on the rooftop. So he had packed his bags as soon as he’d made it to his room, and called for Sister Imperator to make arrangements for his immediate departure.

Whatever the Old One wanted from you, it could wait. Secondo wouldn’t force you to be by his side any longer.

A weight was lifted off your shoulders.

Although those first few days alone, it had still felt like a pair of eyes were following you, watching you in the library, at the lake, on your way to the dens but after the third day, things eased, and you began to finally feel like yourself again.

Life felt easy.

Ever since Secondo had taken you down to the catacombs, he had consumed you. Your whole life had become about him. You even smelled like him after long days. And no matter how hard you scrubbed in the shower, your skin still held onto the scent of the candles he lit in his office and the incense that seemed to roll off his vestments in waves. But this week, when you stepped out of the shower, you didn’t smell like him anymore. You smelled like lavender and honey and, most of all, like sweet warm sunshine.

Over your week alone, you spent a lot of time in the gardens, and your body had changed for it. A few warmer days had allowed you to develop a nice tan, and a small splattering of freckles now graced your upper cheeks and nose.

Since the incident in the catacombs, you hadn’t forgotten about Lucifer’s message to you. It had replayed in your mind over and over again. “The road will fork when the snake returns to the garden.” You practically said the phrase in your sleep. But with Secondo around, you hadn’t been able to actually get to the garden to look for yourself. Sure, you’d asked Mountain to keep an eye out for any serpentine creatures, but you wanted to look yourself.

Now you had the time.

Of course, there was a pretty good chance you were being too dimwitted about the Dark One’s message. He probably hadn’t meant a literal snake creeping amongst Primo’s precious fiori, but it wasn’t like he’d given you much else to go on. So every afternoon, like clockwork, you strolled through the gardens, scanning every corner of the manicured grounds for any sign of a slippery snake.

It was on one of these sunny afternoons that you’d heard a soft melody, a gentle plucking of a guitar somewhere beyond the usual well-groomed trail you meandered. And so you followed it, chasing the sound like a bloodhound on the hunt.

Tucked deep behind a thicket of rose bushes and tall viburnum hedges, you stumbled upon a hidden pathway. It was overgrown with ivy and lined with ancient stone statues of fallen angels with weather-worn features and outstretched wings. You followed the path to a secluded garden that was unlike any other on the Abbey’s grounds. It was made of wild beauty, a stark contrast to the pristine and orderly gardens tended to by the brothers and sisters under Primo’s care. Here, nature reigned supreme, reclaiming the space with its tangled vines and unruly flora. And in the center of all the wild was an older man, sitting on an old stone bench that had been weathered and worn from years of exposure to the elements. Moss and lichen grew on its surface. He plucked at a guitar in his lap.

“Sorella,” he called with his back turned to you.

“Papa,” you said, stepping closer.

Primo’s fingers danced over the strings as you took a seat beside him.

“Have you come to hear me play, Sorella?” he asked, his voice carrying his usual tender softness.

“I followed the music,” you admitted. “I didn’t know this part of the garden existed.”

Primo smiled. You admired how smiles came so easily to him, like his lips were meant to be upturned and his eyes made to crinkle and shine this brightly.

“Not many do. This garden is my most sacred space. Can you guess why the plants here run wild?”

You looked around the garden.

“They are allowed to grow freely, without the constraints of man’s hand.” 

Primo nodded, his fingers still plucking at the guitar strings, the sweet song blending with the rustling autumnal leaves and chirping birds around you.

“Very good, little one. In nature’s chaos, there is a kind of harmony. A beauty that cannot be replicated by human design,” Primo gazed at his overgrown garden. “It is similar to our Master, no? He has created beauty in the fiori and the plants, but when he lets them choose where and how to grow, they blossom into something most unholy, something most special.”

You smiled back at Primo.

You always loved listening to him speak. Especially his outdoor lectures, the ones he held in the summer down by the lake. His teachings weren’t like the others. He didn’t just read old texts or tell you plainly right from wrong. Primo taught with stories, speaking in tales told like winding fables and stage plays. He engaged your mind instead of just filling it. You really loved him for that.

You knew now was no different. Surely Primo was trying to teach you about his garden. But there was probably something more, too. Something you probably needed to hear.

“I think I need your help, Papa.”

Primo set his guitar down on the mossy grass and turned to you, crossing one of his legs coolly over the other under his black cassock.

“Sí, sorella. What help do you need?”

“He has shown me a future that I could have. And-and I know it is my choice. I know He doesn’t force our future.” Primo’s smile widened, pleased you understood his message about the garden and freedom. “But I- I think maybe there was a mistake.”

“Hmm…” Primo hummed. “And why is that?”

“I’ve been told to look for a snake in the garden, but I don’t know where to look. And I don’t even know what to do if I were to find one.”

Primo stood then and offered you his gloved hand. You slipped your palm into his and rose from the bench.

“Come with me, little one.”

Primo led you further into the wild garden, weaving between towering plants and more ancient winged statues. As you walked with him, a haze grew, rising up from your ankles and slowly rolling over your habit as you moved deeper and deeper into the untamed. You followed Primo around a crop of sunflowers until you arrived at a small clearing. In the center rose a tall, tiered fountain of crackling black and white marble.

But the fountain wasn’t like the others surrounding the Abbey. You’d never even seen anything like this in your life. Instead of water cascading down from the fountain’s layered tiers, fire tumbled down, moving like rain. Even from a dozen feet away, you could feel the heat of the trickling flames.

“What-what is this…”

Primo released your hand and gestured for you to approach the fire.

“He speaks through hellfire. It is one of His favorites. This was a gift He gave me. One of many.”

“Papa,” you said, staring at the flames, “I don’t und-”

“I have seen your snakes, sorella.” Your eyes snapped from the fountains to Primos. His sweet smile remained on his thin lips. “It has been a long time, but I have seen them. Right here.”

You inhaled sharply, looking for an answer back in the hellfire.

“Will they ever come back?”

“Sí, of this I am sure.”

It had been a long week and Secondo struggled to focus.

This was the eighth budget meeting he’d been dragged to and if he had to listen to that one gap-toothed brother ramble on about the importance of Spanish gold for the senior suite doorknobs for one more god-forsaken minute he was going to pull out each hair follicol of the men at his table until everyone’s head shined as bald as his did.

Santhanas, he wanted to go home.

He was tired. He missed the Ministry. He missed his bed. He missed Alpha. He missed the real Italian food from the kitchens. He even missed his regular work that was surely piling up on his desk and waiting for his return.

Something was wrong.

This wasn’t like him.

Secondo never got homesick. But something was different this time. Maybe it had something to do with the gaggle of siblings that followed him everywhere, constantly wanting a piece of him. At first, Secondo had wondered if the brothers and sisters had just been charmed by his foreign accent, his rolling r’s a unique delicacy in this land. But he quickly realized that much like home, it wasn’t the man under the robes the siblings were after. It was the title itself.

“Oh, Papa you look so handsome.”

“Papa, please let me worship you.”

“Papa, Papa, Papa…”

By his second night in France, Secondo had to chase a trio of sisters out of his private room. They had giggled and batted their eyelashes at him, but Secondo had firmly shown them the door. It had only gotten worse from there. Fingers lingering too long after handshakes, eyes undressing him whenever he spoke, responses dripped in lusty innuendo.

He was tired of it all.

The brother, droning on about Spanish gold, finally paused, and Secondo seized the opportunity to finally put an end to his yapping.

"Thank you for your insights, Brother," Secondo began. "I believe we can table further discussion on the doorknobs for now. Let us move on to the next item on the agenda."

As an Imperatrix took over the meeting, murmuring on about new wardrobes for the more junior sisters, an older sister, about twenty years Secondo’s senior, smiled at him.

Secondo tried to avoid her eye contact and stared down at an empty water glass in front of him. It wasn’t that he was unattracted to the older woman. And he had no misgivings about age gaps. He’d been with much older men and women before. And it wasn’t that this woman was homely either. No, not by any means. She had long silver hair that cascaded out of her habit and down her slender frame, and her eyes were mesmerizing. A shade of pale blue, like an afternoon sky before a storm.

Normally, she would be exactly the kind of woman he’d pick for a carnal ritual. But Secondo was just so damn tired. All he wanted was some sleep and to be left alone. She could keep her pleasant smile and her pretty eyes. He didn’t need them anyway.

“Sister, thank you for your valued input, but I think it’s time we bring this meeting to a close,” Secondo looked up as the older woman spoke, her voice as smoky as the fire burning at the other end of the room. “Any more pertinent questions can be addressed to my office, and I will make sure they are seen by Papa before his departure.”

Secondo felt a wave of relief wash over him as the meeting finally came to an end. Rising from his seat, he excused himself with a polite nod and began to make his way towards the door, eager to escape the prying eyes of the siblings. But just as he reached for the handle, a smoky voice called out behind him.

"Papa, may I have a word?"

Secondo paused for a moment before turning around to see the older woman standing a few feet away. She inclined her head slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. Begrudgingly, Secondo returned to the table and sat beside her as the rest of the clergy members filed out of the room.

“You are tired, Papa.” Secondo opened his mouth to protest, but the woman placed on gentle hand on his wrist. “You are. I know these things. Let me help you, Papa.”

“I appreciate your concern, Sister,” Secondo replied, trying to keep his voice steady despite exhaustion weighing on him. “But I assure you, I am perfectly capable of managing my own well-being.” He offered her a polite smile, hoping she would take the hint and let him go.

“You think I want something from you?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Secondo scoffed, apparently too tired to bite his tongue. But the woman’s smile never wavered. Instead, her pale blue eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Perhaps," she conceded, "but not everything is always as it seems, Papa. Come with me. I have something to help you."

Maybe it was just exhaustion, or maybe it was the way the sister looked at him, her blue eyes shining full of soft pity, but for the first time in forever, Secondo didn’t fight.

And without a word, he followed her.

It had been a great week.

You’d been able to catch up with your ghouls. You started baking. You read two books and were halfway through a third. You’d even gone shopping, buying a few special things for yourself in town. A new perfume. Some candles. A sexy new set of loungerie in case those damn snakes ever did show up and the world’s greatest man fell into your lap. It had been nice for once to just enjoy the ministry without deadlines, without responsibilities, and without a Papa who made you feel small.

Today was shaping up to be another wonderful day. The weather had chilled a bit, but that was okay. You knew you’d been lucky to enjoy the unseasonally warm weather lately, and besides, the drop in temperature meant the kitchens would have something autumnal to enjoy for lunch. Sathanas, you hoped it was going to be the French onion soup. The one with the crusty pieces of bread and the blend of Gruyère and Manchego on top. Your stomach gurgled at the thought.

You moved through the Abbey, down the stone steps of the main stairs toward the siblings' dining hall on the first floor. The hall was already bustling with activity as you entered. You hopped in line behind a tall brother and peered around his broad shoulders at the serving line.

“Yessss,” you quietly sang to yourself. French onion soup, garlic bread, and apple crumble were on the line. Today was going to be another great day…or so you thought.

You settled down at an empty bench in the back of the room and dug into your meal. You were halfway through your apple crumble when a shadow fell across your table.

“Oh hey, love! Long time no see!”

Sister Luciana slid into the bench beside you and flashed you a fake smile. Her too-sweet perfume stung your eyes, and your appetite vanished as quickly as your good mood.

“Hello, Luciana.”

“I just came to see how you’re doing?” She scooted closer and smiled wider at you. Your insides twitched. 

“I’m fine. How are you?” You played nicely.

“Oh, that’s so good to hear, love. I’ve been worried about you.”

You cocked an eyebrow, “Worried?”

“Oh yeah. Ever since I heard Papa Secondo went off on that Papal visit to France and I saw that you were still here, I’ve been so worried. Things must not be going well between you two, huh?”

You kept your expression neutral. You knew she was fishing for information, trying to pry into your personal life like a nosy neighbor peering over a fence.

"We're doing just fine," you replied, keeping your tone light. "Just enjoying a little break from the chaos."

Luciana's smile faltered slightly, but she quickly recovered and leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Hmm, that's not what I heard, love. Seems like there's some tension brewing between you and Papa. Is it true he stormed off without you? Left you all alone here?"

You continued to pick at your apple crumble, refusing to engage further with Sister Luciana. She was like a vulture circling a dying animal, waiting for any sign of weakness to swoop in and feed off the carcass. But you weren't about to give her the satisfaction. She wouldn’t get to see you vulnerable. Ignoring her probing questions, you focused on finishing your meal, hoping she would take the hint and leave you in peace.

But Luciana wasn't one to lie down quietly either. She didn’t give a damn about your peace.

"So, what do you think Papa is doing in France? Visiting old flames? Or maybe he’s out there finding new ones? You think he’ll bring someone-"

“Luciana,” you snapped, “I have no interest in discussing Papa’s personal matters with you. And as for my relationship with him, that is none of your concern. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish my meal in peace.”

Relationship?

Why the hell had you used the word relationship. You and Secondo didn’t have anything like that. You despised him and he hated you. You had as much of a relationship with him as the light does with the darkness. You were simply strangers who shared anger. Fire, spite, and rage.

That wasn’t a relationship.

Fuckkkk Luciana was getting to you. The pounding in her head moved behind your eyes, and suddenly, the air was stifling. You needed to get out before the walls you were barely holding up collapsed. You stood abruptly, gathering your tray and empty dishes, and walked away from the table, leaving Luciana mumbling behind you. You didn’t bother to listen. Nothing she said ever mattered.

As soon as you passed through the dining hall doors, you ran, habit billowing behind you, heels clacking loudly on marble. You couldn’t wait any longer. You had to get back to the garden.

Today, you had to find your snakes.

Secondo followed the older woman to a secluded corner of the French Abbey, where a small apothecary hid behind a heavy wooden door. The room was beautiful. Large stained glass windows marked the exterior walls, while rows of shelves filled with jars of herbs and vials of colorful liquids lined the interior. The air was thick with the scent of lavender and mint, which Secondo found to be a soothing balm for his very weary soul. He could taste magic in the air and he felt his eyelids become heavier.

For the first time in a long time, Secondo knew his guard was falling.

He watched as the sister busied herself, selecting various dried leaves and flower petals, her movements practiced and precise. Silently, she began to brew a fragrant tea in a delicate porcelain teapot. The steam curled upwards in gentle wisps. Secondo sat down at a small table while he watched, relaxing into a comfy tufted armchair by one of the large windows.

“You seem well practiced, sorella. Who taught you the ways?”

Secondo watched as the woman collected a bit of honey from a small mason jar with a delicately inlaid silver spoon. She swirled the silver around a teacup, and Secondo counted her motions. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven times she circled the cup before tapping the spoon another seven times on the side of the porcelain.

“You don’t recognize, Papa?”

Vivid memories flashed in Secondo’s mind. Nights spent sick, curled up on Primo's couch, watching as his brother coaxed him back to health with medicinal teas and soft songs, comforts he never received from his own father. Secondo remembered how Primo always swore by the number seven, claiming any offerings that included that unholy number would be more powerful. Seven times he would press cold compresses to his brother's head, seven times he would pray for Secondo to recover from the occasional flu, seven times he would bless his younger brother with sacred incense.

“Seven times,” Primo had said, “Seven times for the seven Princes of Hell.”

“You are friends with my fratello, then?”

“Mhmm,” the woman hummed as she placed a steaming teacup in front of Secondo and took a seat across from him. “We are something like that. Your frère taught me a lot. We still talk now and then. He let me know you might be needing some help.”

Secondo picked up the teacup and inhaled. Sweet cherry blossoms, earthy moss, and black licorice wafted over the gold-plated rim.

“Thank you, sorella. I feel more relaxed already.”

He closed his eyes and brought the cup to his lips. Secondo sipped, feeling the warmth spread through his chest and down to his fingertips. The flavors danced across his tongue.

“Oh no, Papa. This isn’t meant to help you relax.”

Secondo’s eyes widened. The teacup slipped from his hands and shattered against the ground. The room began to blur around him. Colors bled into each other. The stained glass windows cast kaleidoscopic patterns on the walls, and the jars of herbs began to shimmer. Secondo blinked, trying to clear his vision, but the colors only intensified.

“What-what have you done?”

The woman smiled, her pale blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

“You said you needed help, Papa. And help is what I’m here to offer.”

She reached out a hand and placed it gently on Secondo’s wrist. A surge of energy shot through him, causing his muscles to tense and his heart to race. He tried to pull away, but the woman’s grip was firm.

“You need to see,” she whispered, her voice echoing amongst the flashes of color and light.

And then, in an instant, the world around him warped and twisted.

Everything faded to black, and Secondo collapsed.

When his eyes opened, the first thing Secondo noticed was his hands.

They were different. Small. Half the size they normally looked. Delicate little things, with feminine curves and softness. There were no callouses or scars. The nails on the tips of his fingers were long and painted a deep cherry red. Silver charms hung from his right wrist, and in his left hand, he held a champagne glass.

Without conscious effort, his right hand moved, bringing the glass to his lips, and Secondo realized he was no longer in control. Whatever that sister had put in his drink had plucked him out of his reality and dropped him into someone else’s body. With eyes that weren’t his, Secondo looked around the room, and a second realization crashed into him. He was not just in someone else’s body… he was in someone else’s memory.

It was winter.

Snow was falling outside the ministry’s windows, and the great hall was decorated for Yule. Garland and twinkling lights were wrapped around the wooden planks in the rafters. Laughter and chatter filled the air as siblings and clergy members mingled, their voices blended with the soft strains of holiday music.

Sitting at a wooden table, Secondo could smell the holiday roast, and memories of his own quickly flooded his mind. This was three years ago. It was the same evening that Terzo had come home from a one-year stint abroad. He remembered how much more alive the hall had seemed that night. He remembered how happy everyone had been to see his younger brother. 

Through the eyes that weren’t his own, Secondo looked to the far end of the hall. There, seated on ornate thrones, were his brothers, Primo and Terzo. They smiled at one another, chatting amongst themselves. Secondo felt a hand reach out and the shoulder he now embodied.

“Satanas, is he not the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life?”

Secondo's new body turned and met the eye of another sibling. What was her name...Sister Mary? No. Sister Margaret? He couldn’t remember. Something starting with an M, he thought. She was thin, blond, and had dark eyes. She worked in the infirmary, maybe? Sathanas, he truly did not know his flock very well.

“What I wouldn’t give to just run my hands through that pretty dark head of hair. My fuckin' Lord,” another dark-haired sister, Secondo didn’t recognize, sighed over Terzo at the table.

A third sibling rattled on a vulgar little list of things she wanted to do to Terzo. But the eyes Secondo watched through didn’t shift to the sister. Instead, they moved the door at the back of the hall.

Secondo watched himself enter. He moved up the steps of the dais and joined his brothers. It was odd to see himself like this, from a stranger’s perspective. He never realized how heavy his eyebrows sat over his face or how dark his green eye looked in comparison to his white one.

But Secondo couldn’t dwell on his own appearance for long because suddenly, he worried that the poor creature’s body he was inhabiting was going to burst. The heart in his chest kicked so violently against his ribs that Secondo thought it might give out. And Lucifer, the air in his lungs was so thin all of a sudden.

Was this a panic attack, he wondered? Was that what this horrible, awful feeling was? Was this tiny little sibling going to keel over right here at the table? Had someone died this night?

“Sister?” A voice called out softly.

“Sister!?” The voice said louder.

“Sister!!!” Secondo’s vision suddenly snapped away from the dais and back to the blond sister at the table, “I said, don’t you think Terzo is handsome?”

“Oh uhhh…”

No. It couldn't be.

The sweet voice that came out of Secondo’s mouth.

No.

But it was.

He was sure.

It was yours.

Secondo was in your memory.

He was in your mind.

Your body.

“He’s ummm… he’s not really my type,” you said, bringing your tiny hand to your chest, rubbing tiny circles to settle your racing heart.

“Are you sure? You're practically drooling over him.”

“Yeah,” you answered as your eyes moved back to Secondo. “I’m sure.”

Secondo’s vision blurred as the colors of the hall began to blur and swirl. The pain in his chest faded. The air in his lungs returned. Then everything faded to black once more.

“Oooooof.”

Your voice squeaked as Secondo felt your body collide against something solid. Losing your balance, you tumbled down and fell on your rear, bouncing against what felt like solid ground. Secondo’s vision came back as you blinked your eyes open. You were sitting on the stone pavers of the Ministry’s driveway. Dozens of papers fluttered around you, like they'd just flown out of your hands. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you said, scampering to your knees and starting to collect the pages you’d been carrying. When you looked up the solid frame you’d collided with, Secondo felt your tiny heart palpitate wildly. Your breath stopped short, and your small hands shook.

His own angry eyes stared down at you. Secondo watched his painted mouth open, ready to reply, but before he could respond, the blackness returned, and he was swept away from your memory.

The darkness only lasted seconds this time before Secondo was thrust back into another one of your memories. You were kneeling, hands collapsed together in prayer. Secondo recognized your words immediately. This was your first dark communion. Your first Satan’s Prayer. Your fingers danced across your chest and shoulders as you made the inverted sign of the cross.

“Nema,” you whispered.

A pair of black Oxfords, Secondo recognized as his own, stopped in front of you.

“Do you swear your life to the Old One?” His own voice asked.

“I do,” you answered, eyes glued to his shoes.

“And do you renounce all other false gods?”

“I do,” you said again.

“Then will you accept Him here and now through this bread?”

“I will.”

A burst of courage passed through you, and you looked up at Secondo through the tip of your lashes, swallowing heavily, before opening your mouth. A small, silver dish was produced from the folds of Secondo's robe, and on it sat a single black wafer. You leaned forward and presented him with your tongue.

But as the leather of Secondo’s glove brushed against your mouth, Secondo felt a heat burn through your body. He’d never felt anything like this before. From the very edges of your fingertips through your toes, Secondo felt the most powerful want he’d ever experienced. Hot and heady. Lusty and longing. 

A familiar panic set in. Your heart beat too rapidly against your ribs. You struggled to breathe, and Secondo felt like you were going to burst open again. But before you could the inky blackness returned and the memory faded away. 

A bolt of lightning brightened the chapel.

You were standing on the altar, in his robes with his staff raised above your head as half a dozen ghouls cheered your name. A loud bout of thunder shook the Abbey, and the chapel doors flew open.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”

As soon as Secondo saw his disheveled and frazzled self, he knew what night this was. God, how he wanted to wake from this wretched spell that old sorella had cast him under. He didn’t remember leaving the crypts that night, but surely nothing good had followed. Nothing he would want you to witness. Nothing he would want to relive. 

"Papa, we were just-" Mountain had tried to speak.

“I wasn’t speaking to you, ghoul. I was speaking to the sorella. The one who thinks it’s okay to desecrate this sacred space with her mockery!”

In the past few minutes, Secondo had felt you shake and stumble and struggle to breathe… but he had yet to feel you like this. You were terrified, shrinking in on yourself as he bore down on you with a wild fury so awful he himself wanted to look away.

But he couldn’t.

He had to watch through your eyes. And Secondo saw for the first time just how much hatred he had rained down on you. Secondo stood there, just like you had, and listened to the awful, horrible words he spewed from his no-good, vulgar, and wretched mouth.

Again and again, he called you things he meant for himself.

A loser.

A failure.

A worthless, a blight upon the Dark Lord.

Secondo felt a tear prick in the corner of your eye, and Sathanas how he wanted to wipe it away. You hadn’t deserved this. Nor had you deserved any of the awful things he’d said to you since. He knew then that every ounce of hatred he held toward him had been earned.

Secondo needed to apologize. He needed to fall at your feet and promise to never speak to you that way ever again. Sathanas, how he wanted to strangle himself in that moment. To reach through your memory and silence himself forever, or at the very least rip out his tongue and take back every harsh syllable that had escaped his lips in your aim.

What had he done?

What had he done to such a sweet sorella who trembled at his touch and lost her breath at his sight?

Sathanas.

He had fucked up. He knew then there was only one to do.

Secondo needed to beg and plead for your forgiveness. 

But first he had to wake up.

You sat by the fiery fountain and listened to a crackle of thunder in the distance. A storm was coming. Thick black clouds lined the sky, and the unruly trees of Primo’s garden swayed in anticipation with the threat of rain.

You knew you should probably head inside. It was a long walk back to the Abbey, and if the rain did come, you would be soaked from head to toe by the time you made it inside. But you didn’t care. So you didn’t move. You sat there staring at the flames, watching the fire trickle down from tier to tier.

But as you gazed into the flickering flames, lost in thought, a sudden rustling caught your attention. At first, you dismissed it as just another gust of wind rattling the leaves or a small creature looking for shelter before the storm. But then it came again, more distinct this time.

It wasn't just the wind; it was a deliberate sound—like footsteps crunching on gravel.

“Sorella,” a voice called, and thunder boomed.

“Sorella,” the voice called out again.

As you turned to face the source of the voice, your heart leaped into your throat. Standing before you, under the darkening sky and the crackling storm clouds, was a man you barely recognized. Secondo wore a white button-down shirt and black pants. And for the first time since his ascension, he was free of his regal paints. Simple black paint circled his mismatched eyes.

Another bout of thunder cracked through the sky, and you realized something was very wrong.

Secondo was out of breath.

He didn’t look right.

The anger that often simmered just beneath the surface of him was gone, seemingly dissipated and replaced with something else, and you wonder what horrible thing had happened to him. You stood quickly just as the clouds cracked open and rain began to fall. Lightning flashed above you in the sky.

“Papa…” you breathed, unsure of what to say. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

As the rain poured heavier, you moved closer and looked him over. Starting at his feet and examining him, moving slowly up his body. Was he hurt? Had something happened while he was away? 

But then as your eyes reached Secondo’s chest you saw something, poking through the shirt that clung to his dampening skin. You didn’t know what strength or stupidity possessed you, but with steady hands, you reached for the top of Secondo’s shirt and began to push away the top buttons.

And for some reason, Secondo let you. He kept his hands frozen by his side as the rain and your fingers slid over him. You worked quickly, pushing two more buttons aside before you reached under the rain-drenched fabric and touched his warm chest. You pushed the wet shirt off his shoulders.

“Sorella…” You could feel his breath against your cheek.

But then you saw them. Two twin inky black vipers tattooed on his skin. Their bodies curved up and over Secondo’s broad shoulders, and their agap jaws resting on his chest.

“Sorella, look at me,” Secondo whispered as he raised his hand. His thumb caressed your cheek.

Thunder cracked in the sky. Your eyes snapped from the serpents to Secondo’s. The flames from the fountain shot into the air, reaching toward the black and angry clouds. Their heat warmed you, and a tear pricked at the corner of your eye. Secondo brushed it away.

“It’s you,” the words slipped quietly from your tongue.

“W-What?”

The snakes had returned to the garden.

“Sathanas…Secondo, it’s you.”

Chapter Text

Crying eyes never bothered Secondo. Over the years, he found that tears of pleasure and tears of pain tended to fall down siblings' faces just the same. But you didn’t cry like them, and it bothered Secondo when your tears mixed with the rain faster than he could wipe them from your eyes.

He had seen you angry, frustrated, and cold before, but he had never seen you quite like this. The bravado you often wore like armor was gone, washed away in the storm. Before him was a terrified sorella, una diavoletta without her hellfire. The small hands he remembered from his visions trembled against his chest, and the tips of your red nails scratched anxiously against the twinned tattoos that slithered over his shoulders, like you were trying to pick them off his skin. He wondered if your heart was kicking against your ribs more violently than when he had visited your memories.

Secondo realized then your combativeness, that cocky little attitude you threw at him, wasn’t solid armor. It was a shiny facade, a false front you hastily threw up to protect yourself from his cruelty, and now, for some reason, it was crumbling. Secondo didn’t want you to shake and tremble.

Shit. He’d caused this. This fear, crawling all over you, was his fault.

Fuck. How had he been so terrible to a creature so vulnerable? How had he been so wrong to think he needed to change you? To punish you? To whip you into shape like some sort of challenge from on high?

“Secondo, it’s you,” you murmured again.

He didn’t understand why you were touching him or what you were saying, but he could only guess that he’d somehow upset you again, caught you at a vulnerable private moment, and made you terrified by his mere presence. But this time, Secondo was determined to make it right. He had to. He owed you that at the very least. After all he’d done, he would climb straight into the ninth circle of hell if it meant those tears in your eyes would dry. He could only hope you’d let him try.

“You're cold, sorrella,” Secondo said softly, bringing his second hand to cup your other cheek, cradling your head in both his hands. Your skin was getting colder as the temperature was dropping faster. “We need to get you inside.”

“I’-I’m not cold, Papa,” you stammered back, still trembling and refusing to meet his eyeline, instead focusing on his exposed chest.

Secondo made his voice as soft as he could, afraid you would run if he spoke too loudly, “Then why are you shaking diavolessa?”

“L-Lucifer… He-he promised me I could have you.”

You weren’t making sense. Lucifer promised you?

The cold. The rain. They must be getting to you. Satanas, he needed to get you warm and safe before something bad happened.

Secondo looked around. The trees swayed back and forth, creaking like they too wanted to collapse. Another bolt of lightning flashed in the black and angry sky. You were deep in Primo’s garden. It was at least a fifteen-minute walk back to the Abbey. And that was if the paths hadn’t already flooded. Shit that was going to take too long.

Secondo took a deep breath and stepped closer to you, his chest pressed against your trembling body, and he wrapped you up in his arms, hoping to share his warmth with you.

Secondo had touched you before.

He saved you from a fall, yanked you to his side, pushed his way into your space, tried to intimidate you with his height… but he’d never touched you like this. He’d never held you like he was afraid you would crack. He never cradled you. Never touched you like you were something that could break. And he should have. Satanas, he thought to himself, as you fell into his arms, he should have done this long ago… because your tears, the ones that were now sliding down his chest, were killing him. You were breaking him apart inside, with every quiet sob you tried to swallow against his skin.

Secondo would apologize every day for the rest of his life if you would never be this sad again.

“Don’t be scared. Sorella, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should never have-”

Before Secondo could spill all the things he wanted to say, another loud bout of thunder cracked the sky, and you jumped. Your hands, the ones that had been clawing against his chest, wrapped around his neck, and you pulled him even closer until your legs and thighs were tangled up with his. Wet thin fabric slid against each other as you two pressed against one another. You buried your face against his chest, and Secondo knew you could feel the way his pulse raced.

He quietly called your name.

Your eyes snap to his, and Secondo never wished he could read minds more than he did in that moment.

Any attempt to control your heartbeat had crumbled the moment Secondo had wrapped you in his arms… because you remembered Lucifer showed you this moment, two people tangled together, clinging to one another in the shadows. The Dark Lord wanted this for you, and as you looked up into Secondo’s mismatched eyes, you realized you wanted this too. Because while hating Secondo had always been hard, there was a time when wanting him had come easily.

If that night had never happened. If you hadn’t played dress up and worn his robes. If you hadn’t climbed on the altar. You’d still be hopelessly head over heels for Secondo. There was too much about him you fell for. The way his white eye always seemed to glow like a star in unholy candelight. The way his voice rang out deeper and sweeter than others during hymns. The way he spoke his mind in public and private, never choosing pretty, artificial words over blunt, rigid truths. He was stoic and powerful. A solid rock amongst a lot of shiny fake diamonds. Secondo was the most honest person you’d ever met, never pretending to be something that he wasn’t, and that was so beautiful, especially in a place full of people trying to be something else.

When he whispered your name softly, you pushed your head off his warm chest and looked into his eyes. The rain had washed away most of his paints, and only a few traces of black makeup lingered under his eyes and around his long lashes. Despite all the pain he had caused you, everything in you that had once longed for Secondo burned for him again. Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was wrong. But Secondo was your snake. And he was standing back in your garden.

Sliding both your hands off his chest, you reached for Secondo’s face. His chest puffed, filling with a deep breath of air that pushed his body further against your quivering own. The pads of your thumbs met his strong cheekbones, and his eyes closed as you gently wiped away the rest of his makeup. When you finished and returned your hands to his chest, Secondo opened his eyes again. He had never looked more like just a man. He was beautiful.

And for the first time since that night in the chapel, when Secondo looked back at you, you didn’t see hatred. The edges of his eyes were softer. The deep wrinkles etched on his face were smoother. He looked soft, like a man tired of fighting. Like a man who could love you like Lucifer promised.

“I’m sorry, sorella,” Secondo whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the storm. “I never should have hurt you. Please forgive me. You didn’t deserve th-”

Before Secondo could finish his apology, you did the dumbest and bravest thing of your life. You pushed yourself onto your tiptoes and slotted your mouth against his.

Secondo stilled, freezing like the stone statues lining the garden, as the rain poured down around you, soaking your habit and hair. Behind you, the fountain flared, and its flames shot high into the sky, threatening to reach the treetops. Heat flickered against your goosebumped skin, but embarrassment made you shiver, and you pushed away from Secondo.

Shit.

You’d gone too far. Mistaken an apology for something more. Misread a tattoo as a sign of something else. You’d been stupid. Foolish. An idiot.

“Shit. I’m so sorry, Papa,” you began to apologize, “I shouldn’t have done that. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t-”

But it was Secondo’s turn to silence you. His hands cupped your face before quickly sliding down to your neck, silently begging for you to open for him… and you did. You broke and reshaped to him as his lips met yours. Secondo kissed you more deeply and gently than the peckish little thing you’d shyly given him.

He stole your breath away.

His kiss was fervent. His broad body bent over yours, forcing you to arch up into him as your hips press against one another. His soft tongue gently pushed its way into your mouth, tenderly exploring how to make you melt and mewl, while claiming every small whimper and moan he could elicit from you.

When you opened your eyes again, lightning crackled in the sky above, illuminating the garden for a brief moment before darkness descended once more. The storm raged on around you, but in that moment, there was only the warmth of Secondo's mouth against yours and the taste of him and sweet rainwater on your lips. He kissed like a man starved, occasionally taking a quick break to whisper your name like one of his most unholy psalms before returning his mouth to yours. You couldn't help but respond, as your hands found their way to his unclothed back.

It was then that you learned Secondo’s signing was not the most beautiful noise he could make. Your rough nails against his slick skin made Secondo growl, and you clawed down his back, drawing those pretty sounds from the depths of his belly over and over and over again. The rumble in his chest was just too beautiful. And he let you do it. He let you draw long red lines down the strong muscles of his back because while his tongue led the dance in your mouth, his body had become yours to dictate. So when you walked him backward, step by step, toward the stone bench, Secondo didn’t fight you. He let you move him, and when you pushed him down by his shoulders, he sat without command and looked up at you through those dark lashes that dripped the last remnants of paint you must have missed.

“You are beautiful, sorrella,” Secondo said, like it was the truth. And oh, how your heart wanted it to be true.

Secondo had practiced his apology hundreds of times on his hasty return to the Ministry. He’d imagined all the nasty things you’d rightfully call him and the way he’d fall and grovel at your feet, taking every just blow against him without offense. But in all the scenarios he could muster, he never imagined that when he held out his hand, you would simply slip your delicate little palm into his and then climb into his lap. He never even dared to dream that you’d let him call you beautiful or that when he pushed your wet hair to the side and licked against your neck, that you would rock against him and moan like you wanted him. Like you needed him.

Santanas.

Was he dying?

Was this a sweet little vision before he was sent to meet his ruler in hell?

It had to be, because the taste of your tongue was too intoxicating. You tasted sugary, too saccharinely sweet, like the most delicious honey mixed with the sweetest of flowers. But to hold you… Oh, how that was even more addictive. You fit against him like something he had been missing, and the ache in his chest felt like it opened wide and an entire hole within him blossomed.

But then another crack of thunder rang out, and you tensed in his arms. Lightning followed too closely, and Secondo knew it wasn’t safe in the gardens anymore. As much as he wanted to keep you here, seated in his lap and pinned tightly against his chest, you had to move. He had to keep you safe.

“Dolce… the storm,” he uttered, as you kissed your way from the apple of his cheek to a sensitive spot just below his ear, that made him dizzy. “We need to go inside.”

Reluctantly, you pulled away, your breath hitching at the loss of contact. With a final lingering touch against his lips, you stood up. The wet fabric of your habit clung to your skin, and Secondo couldn’t help but look at you. Every curve, every inch of you called to him.

Fuck, he was rock hard.

Secondo was, of course, no stranger to the human body. He had shared many nights with men and women of all different shapes and sizes. But Santhanas, if you weren’t the most mesmerizing creature he had ever laid eyes on. From the elongated tips of your painted fingernails down to your heeled feet planted between his very own, every inch of you was made for him.

Secondo prayed to hell every single night, but staring up at you, he wondered if somehow his prayers had gotten lost in the mix. He wondered if his words had accidentally reached heaven and God, for once, had taken pity on his creation and sent one of his most beautiful angels down to earth.

But as much as he wanted to sit and admire you for a lifetime, Secondo knew it was time to go. So he stood and offered you his hand again. You took it with hesitation, and together you ran through the gardens, the wet ground squelching underneath your feet. The storm raged on, but in those moments, all that mattered to Secondo was the warmth of your hand in his.

Chapter Text

The foyer was empty.

Only a handful of black candles flickered and danced, casting misshapen shadows over the stone floor. And on the other side of the chapel doors, voices sang an old hymn. One that had been passed down from generation to generation. Hauntingly beautiful. Ageless. A hymn about fire in the night. Under the cover of darkness and a raging autumnal storm, it appeared that Black Mass was carrying on.

If he were a different man. A softer man. Secondo might have thought it was romantic standing in firelight with you while his flock sang in the distance. And Santanas… you looked beautiful. The storm had soaked your clothes, and every inch of your habit was clinging to your body ever so sinfully. But it was your eyes that consumed Secondo the most. It was your eyes screaming… this is romance. Il mio oscuro salvatore. Your eyes stared at him all soft and star-like, like you wanted him, like he could mean something to you, like this could last forever. Like this was romance.

Secondo had held your hand the entire time you had fled the garden together. But when you had stepped into the foyer and heard the music, you had dropped his hand. You spun around, stepping close enough that your feet were slotted between his own, and then your hands, those soft and small fingers, had slid ever so slowly up his wet shirt, and you had rested your warm palms over his exposed chest again. Skin on skin. His heart had leaped.

His self-control was waning. You were so close now. He could smell the rain and earth that clung to your skin. He could see the goosebumps prickling your arms.

“Papa…” you breathed his title, and Secondo had never felt more unsure of himself in his life. “Papa,” you said again, and Secondo had to ball his fists at his side to keep from taking what was not his.

Fuck.

His mind was soiled with dirty thoughts.

Secondo wanted to throw you over his shoulder and slam through every door in the God-forsaken Ministry until he could toss you on his bed, rip off your clothes, and press his full weight against you. He wanted to feel every inch of your soft skin glide against his own. These wet clothes had tormented him long enough. He could stand them no longer. He wanted to have you naked and to be buried so deep in you that your words would fail.

Because these inches. These breaths that you were sharing as you stared up at him through your wet lashes. They weren’t enough.

Secondo was too selfish a man for that to ever be enough.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Secondo had never wanted something so bad in his life.

He was hard. Rock-solid and tenting the trousers he’d thrown on before running away from the Italian ministry.

Santhanas, how he wanted to kiss you again.

But there was something inside him that screamed stop. Something inside his chest cemented his feet to the floor and his arms by his side. Because deep down, Secondo knew that kissing you, taking you to his room, and worshipping you in his sheets…those were things he didn’t deserve.

No.

Not from you. At least not yet.

Not without forgiveness first. Not without giving you what you were owed. Even if the words were going to kill.

“I’m sorry…” The two simple words stuck in his throat like ash, but he swallowed them down and tried again. Your eyes widen, surprised by his shaky voice. “I’m sorry… about what I said to you that night in the chapel. Something happened to me, and I…” Secondo took another breath, “Well, I wasn’t in my right mind.”

“But if you had been,” your voice wavered like you were afraid of Secondo, and that tightened something in his chest. “If you had been in your right mind and you saw me wearing your robes on the altar, would it have gone differently?”

Honesty, Secondo thought to himself. He owed it to you. No matter how much it hurt.

“I don’t know,” he stated truthfully. “But I don’t think those things about you, sorella. I don’t want you gone.”

Tears pricked in your eyes.

“Then why did you say them?”

Your hands left Secondo’s chest then, and you stepped away, taking his heart with you. The music shifted to a hum, and Secondo wondered if your movements had turned down the volume on his world. And maybe it was a trick of his mind, but he could have sworn the candles by the chapel door appeared to dim.

“I'm not a kind man, sorella. You have every reason to hate me.”

Outside, lightning flashed briefly illuminated the foyer, and when thunder followed, you jumped. Secondo wanted to reach for you. To pull you back into his arms and keep you safe, but you drew in a deep breath, steeled yourself, and turned your back on him.

It was a reminder, you weren't his to protect. Shit, he wasn’t even yours to touch. He probably didn’t even deserve to share this space with you.

Secondo watched as your head tilted upward toward one of the stained-glass windows. He followed your gaze. Depicted in the glass panes, the flames of hell licked at Lucifer’s feet. Despite living in the Abbey his entire life, Secondo had never spent much time looking at the windows in this hall. He never realized how the Old One’s expression was so twisted, so pained in both defiance and despair.

He had suffered.

Suffering… Secondo near scoffed. He could certainly relate. His life seemed consumed by it lately.

“There are rumors that you… that the Papas, I mean, can talk to Him.” You said, eyes never leaving the glass. “Is that true?”

Secondo’s eyes snapped from the stained glass window to the back of your head so fast he nearly staggered on his feet.

“I… I don’t understand. What does that have to do with anything?”

What does that have to do with us? He wanted to ask.

Another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, followed quickly by more booming thunder. But this time you didn’t jump. This time, you turned around with your shoulders squared and looked back at Secondo with candlelight and tears in your eyes.

“Why did you kiss me back, Papa? Why are you acting like you don’t despise me anymore? Why are you toying with me? I don’t understand. Just please. Tell me why.”

The rain pounded harder against the stained-glass as if the heavens themselves were demanding an answer. A battle between honesty and self-preservation waged in Secondo’s chest.

He took a deep breath and sighed.

Honesty, it was what he owed. His debt to pay. No matter how much it pained him. No matter how much he would suffer. If the Old One had survived, he could too.

“Sorella,” he started, “there’s something I need to-”

“PAPA!” Sister Imperator’s voice shouted as the chapel doors flew open and slammed against the old stone walls with a bang, “What exactly do you think you’re doing!?”

Secondo turned, guilt creeping up his spine as Sister Imperator’s eyes bore into his.

He had left Italy without bidding the abbey there a proper goodbye. After waking up in a daze in the strange apothecary, feeling hungover from the spellbound tea, Secondo had run full sprint through the foreign ministry back to his guest chambers, where he had quickly packed his belongings. Then he hailed a cab and, using his own credit card, booked a very expensive direct flight back home. He hadn’t spent a minute thinking about his hosts or the fact that he had another week of duties planned abroad. All he had cared about was you and the apology he hadn’t even been able to muster before Sister Imperator barged in.

But apparently, you hadn’t mattered to the Italian ministry. Apparently, his apology didn’t mean anything.

Because they had called.

And they were angry.

“Not even a note, Secondo,” Sister Impoerator chastised. “You left them without a word. And now you’re home, skipping Black Mass to play in the rain with some sorella. And worse yet, she has seen you without your unholy paints! Your face, Secondo!” Sister said, pointing an elongated painted nail at Secondo, “You’ve let her see your face! Secondo, have you lost your damn mind?! You are Papa, not some goddamn-”

“He’s only barefaced because he helped me out of the storm and I-”

“That is enough! I don’t know why you think you can speak sorella, when you have also neglected your duties. You should be at mass. Like the rest of your peers! Both of you get out of this foyer before the congregation sees you. Sister, return to your room and change at once. Papa, I expect you to reach out to the Italian ministry tonight.”

As Sister Imperator turned on her heel, expecting to be followed, Secondo felt a pang of rebellion. He was not ready to let this moment go. He was not ready to let you go. Secondo reached out, grasping your wrist before you could turn to follow Sister Imperator. Your skin was still cold and damp from the rain, but his touch was feverish, desperate. He clung to you.

"Secondo," Sister Imperator warned from somewhere behind. "You are walking a very thin line."

He ignored her. His focus was solely on you.

"I need to say this," he insisted. "I need you to understand."

Your eyes flicked to Sister Imperator, then back to Secondo. A silent battle played out in your gaze. He could see the struggle, the tug-of-war between duty and desire. Imperator was your direct superior. When you had made your vows, you had promised to follow her leadership and guidance. But here he was, the head of the church, asking you to ignore her. To ignore your duties to the church and to follow him instead.

Your eyes looked past Secondo and to the chapel doors. They were still open, and the hum of the congregation's song continued to spill out.

"Please," Secondo murmured, his voice low and urgent. "Just a moment more."

Sister Imperator huffed, her patience waning. "This is highly inappropriate, Papa. The sorella is-"

"A moment, Sister," he cut her off, his tone sharper than intended. He felt your pulse quicken under his fingers.

"Just let me go, Papa," you whispered, tugging lightly against his grip. His hand tightened, not with force, but with desperation as Sister Imperator stormed back toward you both.

"This is your final warning, Papa," she hissed. "Release her and tend to your duties. This is not some lovestruck tryst. You both have responsibilities. You have vows."

Sister Imperator's eyes bore into the back of Secondo's head, but he paid her only a fraction of his attention. His focus was on you, on the silent battle raging in your eyes. 

"Tonight," you mouthed silently, your voice barely a breath, just loud enough for only him to hear. "Find me, Papa."