Chapter Text
Silas had been a member of the clergy long enough to know how things work, thank you very much.
Sometimes he forgot how long it’s been, even— over a decade has passed since Primo’s reign when he was initiated. He wouldn’t necessarily call that era a ‘golden age,’ but Silas was glad he joined at that time; the clergy was simply run differently between each Papa, and Primo’s ascension heralded a smaller, tight-knit clergy that just got larger and larger with each Papa.
He’s been in the congregation for a while, and rose the ladder as he became more and more devoted. He didn’t mind receiving seniority perks or being of a higher rank than the other Siblings of Sin, as he didn’t exactly click with any of them. Silas was fine to be on the outskirts of things, only knowing and talking to a few clergy members. He had his mentor, Primo, and Sister Imperator to look over him to ensure he was following Lucifer’s example. Even with the recent transfers from other convents and monasteries around the globe, things had been comfortable for Silas.
He’s a well respected Brother who’s been in the church for many years. Why, then, is he being asked to play secretary?
“Your Dark Excellency, I simply don’t understand. You can’t request a younger, possibly more sociable Sibling to take this job?” Silas groaned, falling into a chair in front of Sister Imperator’s desk. Overseeing him for many years, she was well acquainted with this act. She sighed.
“You doubt yourself, Silas. To you, this is not an issue of seniority, this is an issue of ability. I would not trust a new Sibling with this responsibility, especially with the kinds of confidential information you may come across. I’m asking you to take up this role because I trust you, Silas, as do the other Papas. With Copia moving to this branch, I’m sure he’s desperate for someone to help him with paperwork— and I know how much you enjoy paperwork.” Silas blushed, moving his eyes away. “ There is the proud Silas I know. Believe me, I think you’d be a perfect fit for this position. Please, tell me you’ll accept?”
Silas sat for a few moments, rolling the idea over in his head. On one hand, he preferred his quiet, quaint life in the clergy. He wasn’t opposed to change, but he was comfortable . How much work would he be put through? Would the cardinal even like him? Turning his eyes back to Sister Imperator, he groaned softly.
“You won’t take no for an answer, will you, your Dark Excellency?” She shook her head while smirking.
“Fine. I’ll be his secretary.”
His first ritual was truly something to behold.
Silas’, that is. He’d been living with a friend for a few years thanks to the last of his emergency fund running dry and his parents finally kicking him out— a great way to start your twenties. Danica was happy to open her door and couch for Silas. He was eternally grateful.
Danica was everything Silas ever wanted to be and more; there was something about her that made you want to act and talk a different way just to impress her. They’d been friends for many years, meeting each other in their early schooling. You couldn’t call them inseparable, but they were definitely close. Nevertheless, Danica had been housing and caring for Silas for a short while at this point while he tried to find a job to get back on his feet. It felt like his options— and himself— were running thin, as nobody wanted to hire him. When Danica’s friend gave her tickets to a concert he couldn’t go to anymore, she said yes immediately, and told Silas to stop moping and start getting dressed.
He didn’t know what to expect, but a small venue way above its maximum occupancy wasn’t exactly his idea. Brushing up against the people next to him every five seconds wasn’t how he wanted to spend the next few hours, even if he was right in front of the stage.
“It’s a band I’ve only heard of a couple months ago,” Danica said over the ambient noise, handing Silas a drink. “The guy who gave me the tickets introduced me to their music. I’m glad they went on a U.S. tour, even if it’s short.”
Silas leaned in. “What band is this again?”
“They’re called Ghost, I think you’ll really like them!” He nodded silently, turning back to the stage.
When the lights finally went down and the lead guitarist came out, Silas was a little skeptical, but he was ready to suck it up just so Danica could enjoy herself. However, as soon as Papa Emeritus I came out on stage and began singing, he couldn’t even look away. While Danica danced away with whoever was next to her, Silas was captivated, sucked into the performance. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before, so unfamiliar and yet so incredible.
At one point, he’d made eye contact with Papa, and that was when he knew he was done for. He felt as though Papa was singing directly into his soul, entrancing him, seeing him for everything he truly was.
A cloaked man came up to him soon after the show ended, while Danica was at the bar talking up a man and a woman at the same time. Silas recognized him as a performer, but couldn’t tell what he played— they all looked the same, after all. He said nothing as he waved Silas on, who followed without complaint. Together, they went backstage to a tight, darkly lit dressing room. Papa was sitting comfortably on a small sofa. His chasuble was discarded, leaving him with a button up and slacks, though his makeup was still applied. His single white eye seemed to glow in the shadows.
“My poor child,” he chided, patting the seat next to him, “what have they done to you? You have been unappreciated and disguised for too long.”
Silas was initiated just weeks later in Sweden.
The Monday morning after meeting with Sister Imperator, Silas woke earlier than normal. The world was quiet, darkness still pouring in from his windows. He went through his routine morning ablutions, dressing in a clean habit and vestments and freshly polished shoes. With time to spare, he left his room and walked toward the kitchen just a few hallways away, quickly fixing up two cups of coffee. In one, he poured in a dash of cream and a sprinkle of sugar, just how he liked it. The other he left untouched, but pocketed a few packets of sugar and cream in case the cardinal liked his coffee lighter. Quickly, he made the trek up to the office wing.
Thankfully, the clergy understood the importance of separating life and work. Thus, every residing cardinal and Papa had an office away from their suite, though not too far away. When constructing the monastery many years ago, however, the clergy did not understand that perhaps the senior members wouldn’t mind being near the lay members. It was not a short walk to Cardinal Copia’s office for Silas.
Checking his watch as carefully as one could when holding two mugs of coffee, Silas noted that he was still a few minutes early. He knocked anyway. Immediately, he heard a small bustle from the other side of the door, the cardinal muttering, plus a few papers falling down and glass smashing.
“ Merda ! Stupido cardinale, non può fare nulla di giusto. ” Footsteps shuffled closer to the entryway, and the door opened to reveal a flushed and frazzled Cardinal Copia. Upon seeing Silas, he perked back up and smiled, opening his arms in greeting.
Silas was immediately taken aback, noticing the cardinal’s mismatched eyes. He questioned how he could have it without being related to the Emeritus’, but kept his comment to himself.
“My little segretario ! Come in, come in!” The cardinal softly grasped one of his shoulders, guiding Silas into his office. Then, he glanced down and jumped back into motion, grabbing the mugs. “Ah, you must’ve been holding on to these for a while. Let me bring them to the desk.”
Silas walked in slowly, taking in the office. It was quite barren, given that the cardinal had just moved to this branch a few days ago. Most of the bookshelves were still dusty, though one held a small framed photo and a few trinkets. The portrait was of the cardinal himself from years ago, visibly younger with matching green eyes. His unholy makeup was a bit shaky and his stature made it seem like he was caving in on himself, but his smile was bright. There was incense smoke wafting around the room, but the source of it was unknown. The morning sun shone in from a window behind the cardinal’s desk, which was already cluttered— as expected, many papers and pieces of what once was a glass cup had fallen to the floor.
The cardinal scampered behind said desk, placing one of the steaming mugs down, taking a sip of the other. He gave a pleased hum.
“Ah, I didn’t know you knew how I took my coffee! What a pleasant surprise.” Peering into the one he didn’t drink from, Silas noticed that he took the wrong cup. No matter , he mused , at least I know how he likes his coffee . The cardinal gestured toward the upholstered chair across from him as he pulled out his own.
“Please, take a seat. I’m sure you’re already familiar, but I am Cardinal Copia.” He reached across the desk with an outstretched hand, which Silas shook. “I have been a member of the unholy clergy for many, many years, so I am not a stranger to how everything is run. I’m sure your job will be very simple as my secretary. I will not try to, how you say, stretch you too thin in this position. How does that sound?” Silas nodded.
“I’m very excited to work with you, cardinal. You can ask any long-standing members of our clergy about my performance; I can assure you that I won’t let you down. What can I help you with today?”
The cardinal flushed and motioned to the corner of his office, then began to wring his hands. “Today? I still have a few boxes over there that need unpacking. It’s mainly books and such. Is that fine?”
Silas deflated slightly in his seat as he agreed and moved to open the boxes. So much for that paperwork Sister Imperator promised .
Silas made many cups of coffee that week. He spent most of his time around the clergy, talking to Sister Imperator and different Papas, dropping off documents, and picking up packages. Every day he tried to ask to do something more, and every day the cardinal would smile and hand him something, but it more often than not would end up being an empty mug that had to be brought to the kitchen for washing. The next week was no different. Silas was not happy.
Eventually, Silas found himself in Primo’s garden, just after his shift with the cardinal ended. Even before his new position, Silas could frequently be found here. Being his first Papa, he had a very close relationship with the now retired man; he looked up to him as a mentor who was always available for a wise word or two. Now, Silas was laying spread out on the freshly cut grass as Primo kneeled nearby, potting a few exotic flowers. The sun was hidden behind clouds, but the air was still warm with spring. Silas sighed— he found he’d been doing that a lot lately.
“Papa, I don’t know how much longer I can take it. I know it’s only been a few weeks, but all I’ve done for Cardinal Copia is run errands, make coffee, and fix up his office. I think I’ll go mental if I have to spend any more time doing mindless tasks for this man!” Primo chuckled, patting dirt into a pot.
“My child, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Primo? Copia has not left his branch in Italy since becoming a cardinal, he does not know how everything works here. He is probably beside himself in worry, not knowing how to act now. Don’t you remember how you were when you first entered the clergy, my Silas?”
Silas’ cheeks turned red, and he turned his head away from the kneeling man. “Papa, I was a young man in my twenties who had come to the clergy with just the shirt on my back! I barely even knew who I was, let alone what I’d do with my life. How can you compare that to a grown man who is a high ranking official in the church of His Unholiness? You can’t.”
Primo placed his tools down softly and fully turned to look at Silas, taking his gloves off and grasping one of his hands in the grass.
“Silas, I ask that you listen to yourself for a moment. You, my child, are very compassionate, and you should share this compassion with Copia, no matter what tasks he puts you through. I know him very well; he is most definitely scared of this new endeavor and the new challenges it will bring. Be kind to him. You may even find that you have much in common.” Silas glanced away from Primo’s kind eyes, embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, Pa— Primo . I didn’t mean to be rude, I just… this job isn’t what I signed up for. I didn’t sign up for it. I expected rigor, not running around the halls to fetch everything for the cardinal. I guess I’m just not enjoying it.” Primo hummed.
“You weren’t rude, simply unseemly. Vitriol isn’t becoming of you, but that is not the issue at hand. Perhaps it would help to talk to the cardinal about your concerns?” With that, Silas sat up, energized and smiling.
“Of course, Primo! Satan, you always have the best ideas; what would I do without you?” Primo smiled, pulling his gloves back on and turning to an empty pot.
“I’m unsure, my dear. Now go. I’m glad I could be of service. Buona fortuna, mio figlio. ”
The first morning he tried to talk with the cardinal, he was too sucked in to listen to a word Silas said. If anyone heard Silas throwing coffee mugs at a wall in a far, often unused wing of the monastery… well, it’d be best not to mention it to him.
The second morning, Silas was able to finally get the cardinal to listen, but he decided to interpret his words into Silas wanting less work. The kitchen staff were starting to get worried as to where their cups were going.
The third morning started off as well as it could, with Silas getting up before the sun yet again. It had quickly become routine to wander into the kitchen, fix up two mugs of steaming coffee (if a bit angrily at this point), then follow the path up to the cardinal’s office, no matter how long it took. The quiet walk was not unappreciated— he could get lost in his thoughts for a while as he trod the memorized path.
He liked the cardinal’s company, he couldn’t deny that. When he was actively listening and conversing instead of writing, he could be funny and witty. However, Silas had a job to do, and being pushed away or given menial tasks was not part of said job. He knew the cardinal was not without work; the pile of papers on his desk was evident and ever growing. Whenever he asked what he could help out with, the answer was always the same.
“ Caro mio , I will be fine for now. Enjoy the day.”
And then he’d slowly leave the office, the door closing behind him with a soft click. Enjoy the day ? He enjoyed working. It gave him purpose, made him feel strong. He wouldn’t lie, he was intelligent, a worthy asset. Still, people were not his strong suit, as could be seen with his small roster of friends, so enjoying his day would mean working. But , he mused, the cardinal was nice . Silas tripped over his feet for a moment, realizing something.
That’s it , he thought suddenly, he is too nice for his own good . He must think working is a chore for me. I’ll just have to let him know otherwise . Resolved, he continued walking toward the office with a new spring in his step. When he got there, he knocked quickly before coming in, placing the coffee mugs down.
“Good morning, cardinal. How are you doing?” The cardinal was sitting at his desk between piles of documents, folders, and open books, scribbling away. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was frowning intensely. The air was tense as he realized who came in and looked up for a moment, then he went back to writing.
“Ah, as well as I can be, Silas.” He patted a book on top of a pile. “Would you mind bringing this book back to the library? I have much to do.” Silas took a deep breath before speaking.
“Cardinal, I’d like to have a few words with you about my job as your secretary—“
“ Si , caro mio. I understand, are you looking for less work? I know it can be—“
“No!” Silas exclaimed, breaking the cardinal from his reverie. He jumped in his chair and looked up from his work, actually seeing Silas in his office. “No, cardinal, of course not. I wanted to speak with you because I want more work, actually. Sister Imperator gave me this job for a reason; to assist you. However, I think I can be a better help if I actually work with you and not run around the clergy doing your errands.” The cardinal reddened under Silas’s stare, dropping his pen onto his desk and wringing his hands nervously. He looked around the room, not meeting his gaze.
“I… Mi dispiace . Please, take a seat. Allow me to explain myself. I’m sure I can trust you with what I’m about to say?” Silas sank into the plush seat across from Copia, nodding and imploring him to continue. Their eyes finally met. “You must understand, caro mio , that I am not a man who can easily accept help. I tend to dig myself a hole and after a while can only go deeper instead of climbing out. At this new branch there are, how you say… expectations for my performance and image. It is stressful, and I feel as though I must do them myself, alone. I saw your position as a test— I appreciated your help, no matter how small the task was, but I thought if I let you do too much, my performance would fall below expectations. Do you understand this?” Silas nodded quietly, shifting.
“I’m sorry if I seemed out of place, cardinal. I just want to fulfill my role properly— I assure you, I can be trusted. I don’t want to disappoint you, and I know you don’t want to disappoint others.” Copia shook his head, reaching across the desk to grasp one of Silas’s hands.
“No, Silas, non lo faresti mai . You would never, and you haven’t. Sei una luce nell'oscurità. ”
Rubbing his thumb across the cardinal’s palm, Silas asked, “What did you say?” The cardinal blushed. His hold went a little tighter.
“ Niente , nothing, caro mio . Here, let me find something for you.” He began rummaging through the piles on his desk, pulling out a few files that were bursting with papers. Silas smiled.
Finally , he thought.