A/N: Just a bit of drabble I did whilst in a Borgiary mood and trapped at school with an hour to kill. But enjoy all the same.
~oOo~
Cesare Borgia did not love God. Not that he particularly hated him, oh no but it was only that he would rather have a sword in his hand than a Bible. Yet when you are the first born son of His Holiness the Pope, you have very little choice in the matter.
He had tried to convince his father that the cloth was not his calling, or ever will be, on many an occasion. Alas, it appeared Cesare's stubborn streak was hereditary as his father was set on making his eldest son Cardinal Borgia, as he had been before him.
A fact which was now apparent as he proceeded down the aisle of St Paul's, with 6 other soon-to-be Cardinals following behind.
"A bakers dozen." his Holiness had said. 13 new Cardinals to secure his position as Head of the Catholic Church. Cesare was often left in awe at his father's selfishness but not a often as he realised how much he himself must give up to protect and preserve his family. Something his father was clearly blind to when he skewered him with those pleading eyes and declared his lifelong wishes for his eldest son.
Love was after all, a very dangerous condition. A man who is motivated by love will do stupid, reckless things. Cesare could recall countless tales from his childhood of Princes, Kings and Emperors who relinquished the rule of their kingdom, fought off vast armies and scaled perilous mountains, just for the sake of a woman. And in one case a much loved dog.
And, God help him, but Cesare Borgia loved his family so.
He looked to his father, seated grandly upon the ornate papal throne.
His brother, Juan, stood adorned with a breast plate of such grandeur it would create many a jealous Prince.
And then there was Lucrezia. Cesare could think of nothing he would not do for her. Perhaps his love for his sister was the most dangerous of all? He was putty in her soft, tender hands, if she wished it so she could easily bend him to he will. But it was not in her nature.
Lucrezia was sweet, naïve and caring and for than he loved her all the more.
She was looking on proudly beside Juan as Cesare knelt before his father. The scarlet red of the Cardinal robes still cause a momentary surprise whenever his gaze fell. He looked to his fathers hand and the obscene ring upon it, Cesare bent to kiss it. As he did he thought of the sword at Juan belt, the honour of his title of Leader of the Papal armies, which he was blessed with.
That was his kingdom, the thing he was to relinquish, the life he could have leaded. The ring, the army he must vanquish.
He lay on the ground a bishop, envying those around him as their dreams came true whilst he was trapped. Cesare rose a Cardinal, as His Holiness declared him such and joined the others of his rank, his brothers in God's arms. Lucrezia was beaming a proud happiness radiated from her.
His love, his woman, the master of his heart.
Men did indeed do stupid things, give up on ambitions and dreams. And so was the curse of love.
But Cesare Borgia had not given up on beating this army that he faced. He would not be Cardinal Borgia forever.