Ora pro nobis, sancta. Dei Genetrix, Ut digni efficiamur promissionibus Christi.
Whilst the Church's power was on rise, one could only be subjected to remember the fall of all large kingdoms. Invincibility is but a delusion to shroud those in security. It is a redundant story of history's nature to repeat periodically. Yet, it claims victims slowly whilst the collapse is predictable and thus, not sudden.
The stories were all well known. The empires built on prestige and power had collapsed, yet, that was due to a corrupt system of politics or the means of a stronger power, correct? The means of the Holy Roman Catholic Church were, indeed, holy and so it would only make logical sense that it would live on forever. That was but only right, no?
Ah! It was too early to contemplate such things.
Feliciano Vargas wriggled uncomfortably whilst standing in the box pew of the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore, proceeding to play with the pages of his bible in order to calm his outlandish thinking. The boy had already dropped out of raising his voice to the Lord as early as the Kyrie. Thus, through this, showing a complete sign of incompetence in the means of the church.
It wasn't the first thing either.
The sixteen-year-old had been granted entry into Heaven, as it seemed. Borne the second child of an increasingly wealthy family, inheritance supposedly had brought him all but closer to God. Those of whom died that were kin, died without fear; for through the means of indulgences, purgatory was avoided completely.
He was the nephew of a wealthy bishop that of whom was leading mass at the altar as of now, the light of the many candles illuminating the white robes that garbed the middle-aged man.
He was the son of a successful merchant, an old man now financially committed only to providing for the church and commissioning for the arts.
He was destined to follow down either of those career paths, and, with collective interests in mind, the young boy was sold into a ranking church career.
But, if one were to become a member of clergy, why was it that there was still so much doubt set on matter?
Un-calloused fingers scraped at the edges of Ezekiel before, due to the continuous abuse on the thin paper, a small rip formed, resonating many times louder in the ears of the culprit as would to any of the others in his collective family set in the box pew. In response, Feliciano carefully closed the Holy Scriptures and rested it back behind him on the wooden benches provided, hiding his crime from the eyes of those mortal, but not sparing him from the eyes of God.
However, not all crimes are escapable from the general public.
Feliciano nearly shrieked when a finger tapped his shoulder, forcing the Catholic to look up into nearly livid eyes that were of his brother's. The younger's skittish behaviour and little sounds had disrupted the means of mass.
"Hey, what do you think you are doing?"
Lovino's voice was a sharp whisper, cutting through the monotone of the bishop's lectionary. Feliciano flinched slightly, avoiding his elder brother's intense gaze.
The older, darker-skinned child had thought beyond this, however, and instead, grabbed his brother's chin, staring needles into his startled eyes. With this, the elder had opened his mouth several times as if to speak, but before words were announced, the elder would always refrain from using them, making Lovino a stuttering mess.
One would not want to present more of a problem in the Church for many reasons. Lovino was no exception to this.
It wasn't long before he released his grip, face proceeding to heat up at the un-approving faces of the 'family' standing on either side of the two, whilst his anger dissolved away into sheer embarrassment. Thus, the events turned to the being of Lovino giving his younger sibling a pathetic sort of look before aiming to bury his face in a randomly chosen page of his own bible; the new, scarlet leather shine of it giving stark contrast to the silken dress shirt of which the darker wore, personal thoughts trapped inside.
In terms of age, Lovino was two years older than Feliciano; and, to add to that, much tanner in the terms of physical appearance due to the means of him being but the result of an adulterated love. He was a sin child in itself, and yet, he gave no means to the look of trying to change, as would be expected by how acted and talked. The elder had an issue with the censorship of his own language and would frequently spend his time trying to flirt with the daughters of rich lords at parties instead of settling down with one as a bride. He ne'er paid attention in his studies either, making him levels behind what he should be in common philosophy, law, and the preferable means of business, of which the elder must conquer in order to take control over the family trade.
It wasn't that Lovino couldn't accomplish these tasks, it's just he was very choosey over what he did undertake.
Lovino's lack of readability was stifling.
And still! Distractions were everywhere in the setting of Sunday mass! And he was supposed to skip the ranks and start schooling to become a bishop! What a horrible Catholic he was! And God had already shunned him enough for his drifting mind in the home!
Feliciano fumbled through the holy pages of The Book of God, searching for Luke 3:1 for the means of the third reading, that having his imagination wander for the first two.
"A voice of one calling in the wilderness,
'Prepare the way for the Lord,
make straight paths for him.
5 Every valley shall be filled in,
every mountain and hill made low.
The crooked roads shall become straight,
the rough ways smooth.
6 And all people will see God's salvation.'"
That's right.
Feliciano used all of his being to prevent his eyes from again lying on his brother next to him, his general presence distracting in the means of God.
"And all people will see God's salvation."
Feliciano mumbled the words aloud, making for them to hit air and stand out slightly in the quiet prestige of the basilica.
It was true. All people must seek for God's ever-holy Hand, and that was what was expected of him in his newly acquired task. It was what he was to be taught. It was what he was supposed to spread.
Biblical verses have always come on to Feliciano as history; something to acknowledge; a means to confirm faith and realize the being of God and Jesus Christ. But now, for the first time, he became all but inspired as if the Holy Spirit was but consuming him at that moment.
Mind-games could not possibly be the reason for such a feeling.
God was acknowledging his entry into the means of the Church.
And such a feeling; what would one have better to do than to spread it to those who have yet to be enlightened?
It was the job of the clergy, of which he would soon become.
Thus, with the illumination sent below through God's word and the potential of becoming the individual in white robes spreading that, Feliciano committed, by thought, to what would be the most difficult and rewarding task that one could imagine.
Ah! But even in enlightenment, he had but let his mind wander again! And now, the family had all but noticed when he dropped out of the recitation of the classic prayers, giving him skeptical looks of shock and disappointment.
The young boy lowered himself in slight embarrassment, catching, in sight, the immature smirk of his elder brother, clearly pleased with the means of karma.
With a similar immature action formed in the means of a pout, Feliciano dug back into his memoury for the Latin needed for prayer, now focused whole-heartedly on the means of mass, following through accurately and without physical or mental distractions.
He needed God on his side to fulfill tasks for Him.
And thus! But again, mass ended in the time of approximately one and a half hours. The uncomfortable means of wooden benches and excessive standing, as well as Feliciano's own weak knees, had made his legs numb and aching. His foot had fallen asleep halfway through the Eucharistic Prayer and stayed as such until the end, causing for the young boy to waver a bit as he tried to rid it of the odd sensation. Lovino walked next to him, wearing the same bored expression he always did after mass, lobbing his bible into a full swing as if to see how far it could go without letting go of the red binding. On either side were the auburn's beloved parents, dressed in the finest velvet and brocades available, puffed sleeves extending to wrist length even during the hot weather that was present in Florence in the earliest days of July.
Similar to that, Feliciano suddenly became very conscience of his own long sleeves and how hot he was, but as to keep up his high-status air, he wouldn't but dare loosen the neck-high undershirt, nor take off the more decourative layers of clothing. Lovino, on the other hand, had already started loosening the outer layers of his own dress, allowing for tan skin to breathe in the cooling breezes of summer.
And what a weak soul was Lovino! Couldn't he but understand the means of social order? And yet! He was but making him envious! Oh how the younger wanted to lower his morale to allow the air to grace his skin! Lovino was a temptation in itself! Ah! But that is where God would help the both of them!
Feliciano had to remind the other of the constant Eye watching o'er all. Words could not do it for Lovino kept going behind his word, yet…
"God is watching."
It seemed like a simple enough sentence. There were really no creepy means behind it considering that it was merely a friendly reminder that the King of Kings and Lord of Lords always was watching his servants. As a means of kindness, he had even swayed from whispering it and mentioned it casually as a means to start conversation. And yet, Lovino reacted terribly.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
His response wasn't at all intimidating. In fact, Lovino sounded both alarmed and scared. Still, in reaction to his horrible mouth, Padre gave the older an unsatisfactory look meant to coerce. Apparently the sudden topic-change in the means of the younger sibling distraught the brunette a bit too much, however, and he thus found it necessary to finish.
"Just because you are going off to become a bishop or whatever does not mean you need to go all bat-shit insane instantly! That 'I'm better than you because I'm the door to God' shit is not going to work on me so go cry to your new religious friends. God loves us all the same, you idiot. And I wasn't even doing anything wrong initially."
After Lovino had finished his rant, he faced the opposite direction, avoiding contact with the younger, Father, or any other beings in the city streets of Florence.
"Besides," he added, "If you want to give a reminder to anyone about the means of God watching, why don't you target your own leaders of the Medici considering that they control everything through the means of unfair business! Oh. And that includes your precious church."
A sound slap followed shortly, echoing louder in the ears of Feliciano, as did the rip of the bible page.
Lovino was silent for the rest of the journey back to the estate.
And still, such standouts and protests about society would get one such as Lovino burned. One did not question the Church.
One did not question the Church.
Feliciano looked over, once again, to view his brother, now caressing his left cheek in a single hand. His eyes were puffy and watery, filled with unshed tears due to fear of the later punishment and other reasons of which the younger was unsure.
Feliciano was decided.
He was going to do this. Considering his means of his new schooling as well, what was better way to start than to save a lost soul from Hell?
He was going to accomplish this task and would go to any means to do so for God was on his side.
He was going to 'Christianize' Lovino.
And he was going to do it now.
(AN: I realized the lack of Hetalia fanfictions placed in the Renaissance and it made me... sad inside. I thus combined that bit of knowledge with my love for Catholicism to satisfy my cravings.
I thank my beta of whom provided helpful tips on the confusing mess that is my writing.~
As for reviews, I do appreciate feedback and constructive criticism. Things like that encourage one's self-esteem, no?)