Chapter Text
A gentle hum resonates on the walls, rumbling harmoniously around the room. It’s such a cold, silent night and the wind howls outside the windows. The faint whistle is barely discernible through the glass and concrete, disappearing somewhere in the room before fully reaching your ears.
In the darkness, only illuminated by the flames of black candles, Copia’s finger traces your face. From up your brows to the curve of your nose, around the soft cheeks and down to the lips, his fingertip grazes your skin with care and devotion. He doesn’t need to look at you to recognize those factions he, by now, knows by memory.
His dark, blown pupils are lost somewhere on the wall, faint candle light reflecting on his eyes. Even when he’s deep in his mind, the embrace doesn’t falter. His arms are tight around your body, cradling you in his lap.
Oh, how much he loves to hold you close, to smell the perfume of your hair and bear the weight of your flesh on his. He’s lucky, so fortunate to have you by his side on the bed.
Gradually, the humming catches up in a melody. It’s something he used to sing, a long time ago, in front of hundreds if not thousands of people. Still, now it feels like this melody was written for the two of you, meant to be heard by lovers only.
And Copia, Copia loves you so much. It hurts. The love he experiences towards you impales him in the heart, filling his lungs with thick dread. It shouldn’t be like this. He knows it, but he’s afraid. So, so afraid. You’re his love, his one and only person in this harsh world, his light in the darkness and the fire in his guts.
Without you, he’s lost.
Without you, he’s nothing but that pathetic Cardinal no one but Imperator trusted on.
Finding you gave him courage, confidence and power. And now, Copia is not used to things going his way, no matter how hard he works. He’s inevitably a second option, nothing but a poorly made copy of the original. He doesn’t deserve such niceness in his life.
Consequently, he knows sooner or later someone will try to take you away from him. Arms tightening on your body, his humming halts only for a moment. He won’t allow it. Nothing will take you apart. No one will separate both of you. It doesn’t matter if the Clergy is planning something, or if everybody seems to be whispering behind his back, scheming, plotting.
Nothing matters, for as long as he secures you by his side.
Bare fingers tracing down your neck, Copia leans down to place a chaste kiss on your cheek. His warm breath tickles over your skin, just like his lashes do when he closes his eyes and presses his cheek on yours. His fingers curl on your neck, nails leaving red marks behind.
Oh, how bewitched he is by your beauty and kindness. No one had ever treated him like you did, no one had ever looked into his eyes with as much warmth as you did. Logically, a part of him whispers that everything must come to an end. Something inside his mind recognizes the moment of letting go will come, inevitably. Still, he’s sure he’ll call your name forever, hoping to evoke the memory of your voice in a reply.
In the darkness, through misery and contempt, he’ll search for you in every person, around the corners, yearning for you, praying for you. Not even death will take you apart.
Not even Hell.
Realizing he’s squeezing too tightly, his arms almost fall limp to his side. Rushed apologies escape his lips as your body plows on his lap, rigid. Copia quickly collects it, holding you closer, propping your head on his chest. Your hair tickles at his neck when he leans closer, shushing in your ear in an attempt to soothe you.
“You know,” he whispers. There’s certain playfulness behind his tone, but also some deep urgency. It’s like he’s disclosing an embarrassing secret, something only the two of you should know. “One time, you asked me if there was someone occupying a place in my heart.”
In the deep silence, the creak of the bed is loud as he slowly rocks his body, swaying yours with him. The movement offers some comfort, expands a faint warmth on his tired limbs. He doesn’t know when was the last time he laid down to sleep or closed his eyes for more than a few minutes. He has to be alert, to protect you.
People are plotting.
"I was young, dumb and didn't understand what you meant by that question. I couldn't even believe someone like you was talking to me, so I never answered." Copia’s pupils barely leave the wall when he continues, fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes over your abdomen and hips.“Truth is, before you I have been in love with no one, and I never shall. Unless it is with you.”
The tolling of the bells marks the time. It’s late, so late at night, but he has to stay awake a bit longer. The light of a new day won’t bring real safety, but it will represent another small victory. He has to survive this night and the others to come, for as long as you stay by his side.
When his shaky hands grip on your waist with too much strength, he apologizes again. This is not okay. He has to be strong, to keep himself calm. Copia doesn’t want to frighten you, to cause you to think he’ll let anybody harm you.
You have to know you’re safe in his arms. "Amore, don't worry.” He says, but there’s an undeniable trembling in his words. “I’ll take care of you. Since the first time we were together, I knew you and I are one. Love me or hate me for eternity, it's okay, but don't leave me. Never. Stay forever with me."
The mere idea of you walking away from him scares Copia to death. He’s been through it too many times. Since birth, nothing really has belonged to him. He was only another orphan, cared for by the Clergy, another face in the multitude. It never mattered if he was the best at his classes, or if he learnt how to perfect old rituals, he was always extremely awkward, too odd and useless.
Since the beginning, he was an outsider. Nice things don’t belong to outsiders, they belong to people like Nihil or Terzo, to people who were born for it. People like Terzo never had to prove themselves to be worthy of fame, power and love.
Him, on the contrary, had to fight. Aching heart and soul, going further than any other Papa before, he fought. Yet, it was never enough. Holding you close, Copia wonders if you endure a similar pain, if something inside you hurts and rumbles with dread.
If your heart is wounded, then his is bleeding profusely along with yours. He’ll offer you the world to make up for it.
Swaying your body, Copia places another gentle kiss on your head. His hand grabs your face, fingertips caressing over the cheekbone. Gradually, he places you back in the bed, setting you under the covers before standing up. The sun is coming up from behind the horizon, crimson rays serving as the omen of another bright day.
Today, he has to discuss details of the oncoming tours with Mr. Saltarian. Sadly, he’ll have to leave you alone for a moment or two. Leaning down to kiss the back of your hand, Copia walks the distance that separates him from the door and disappears outside of the room.
It’s almost noon when Imperator notices the dirt stains in Copia’s clothes. Following the trail of mud through the halls, she finds herself in front of that old, heavy wood door of the main quarters . Her hands tremble before reaching for the knob, turning it in slow motion.
The clicking of her heels on the marble floor is overly loud in her ears, but not as much as the wild beating of her heart when she finds you in the bed, dead eyes staring right at her soul.
The realization strikes her like a bus, like a bucket of freezing water being poured right on her exposed skin. She should have ordered to bury your body farther away. It seems the ghouls did a terrible job at keeping the location of your grave a secret.
It doesn’t matter how much she swallows, nothing loosens the knot in her throat. It’s challenging to breathe inside the room, and she rushes outside, chest heaving and back pressing on the cold concrete walls of the Ministry in a futile attempt to calm down.
This is not how it was supposed to go. With you dead and gone, Copia should be focusing on the Ghost project and the church. He should be investing his time and energy in honoring the Devil, not for the sake of the Clergy, but for himself.
If he doesn’t, he’s going to get killed and she can’t allow that to happen.
Taking you out of the equation was a logical thing to do. It was either you or him, and Imperator couldn’t let go of her little C.
“Sister?” the voice exalts her. There, standing in the hall, is him. Hair disheveled and eyes too wide on his face, he doesn't look like that poor Cardinal that stepped inside the Ministry all those years ago.“Is everything alright?”
Under the yellowish light of the building, the new stains on his cheeks, neck and clothes look almost black, like old coagulated blood. The scent of iron hits her nose, filling her mouth with an acidic taste. Standing upright, Imperator nods. Copia smiles, but the emotion never reaches his pupils.
“Let’s go, then. My dear is asleep and doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
On slow, shaky steps, Imperator follows. The smell of fresh blood worsens as she walks his way, clutching her hands near her body like in a prayer. She's in the presence of something unholy, profane... wicked.
Long time ago, a prophecy foretold the birth of the Antichrist, as a gift from Satan to a woman devoted to him. Now, standing right in front of Copia, Imperator thinks that maybe those weren’t just old, stupid tales to tell in the dark.
Her actions have awoken him. What an honor. How happy she is, and all, thanks to you.