(A/N) This is the last installment in the series of oneshots I've written to hopefully get character dividers in the Trinity Blood archive. This one is a little bit more graphic than the others, and goes into more detail about the abuse Alessandro has received. Also, we get to see into Francesco's mindset a little. Hopefully, I managed to keep them all in character, though I'm not really sure if I did. It's been awhile since I've seen the show…Anyway, here we go:
The Old Testament
Pairings: Non-con Francesco/Alessandro, Petro/Alessandro
Warnings: Dark themes, Sibling abuse, incest, non-con (otherwise known as rape), homosexuality, religion, and one night in shining armor. Literally.
Description: Francesco de Medici is a domineering, powerful man. When he feels something, it permeates his entire being, and his jealousy and hatred for his younger brother has driven him to sin, again and again. Surely a Knight of God can set him upon the path of righteousness, once more?
Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood. Alessandro should be VERY glad I don't…
Cardinal Francesco de Medici, elder half-brother of both Cardinal Katerina Sforza and Pope Alessandro XVIII, the three hundred and ninety ninth Holy Pope of Rome, had always been a passionate person. His hatred for Methuselah had begun when he was three. Methusalah had murdered his mother. To this day, he loathed all Vampires.
His dislike for his younger brother was much harder for him to understand. There were times when he hated how weak the child was. Others where he loathed the idea that Alessandro would ever be stronger than Francesco. Still others when he felt drawn by his brother's effortless beauty.
Perhaps that was why, when he arrived home in Rome, through the gardens of the Papal Palace, to see that beautiful smile turned on a lowly Knight, the very sight caused his blood to boil.
He had made that boy, flesh of his flesh, had taught him, disciplined him, refined him. Alessandro was his, from toe to temple, and he'd be damned if any blue-maned ruffian would take what was his. But he didn't storm over and grab his disobedient snit of a brother.
He bided his time, waiting until he got to his office, and then, assigned Petro's team the hardest mission he could. During the briefing he hid his dislike, out of respect for their mutual disdain for all Vampire-kind, That wouldn't stop him from getting rid of the knight though suicide missions, however.
Petro noticed his superiors cod gaze. This mission was idiocy, even he knew that. And it would be his job to relay it to the troops. What could he have done to anger Cardinal Francesco?
But he and his team boarded the airship calmly. Petro had to come home safely. He'd promised Alessandro. A small smile came to his face, as he sat on the bright deck of the ship. Just thinking about the little Pope filled him with joy. Of course, he still hadn't managed to get the boy to give him an opinion on anything at all, but he was making progress.
"Well, isn't that interesting?" A voice pulled him from his daydreams and he recognized the lightly teasing tone. "To see our vigilant captain indulging in daydreams, I'd say we're doomed."
Paula's voice held a light laugh, and the short haired female had some how gotten right in front of him. He just snorted.
"You're paranoid, sister. I'm as strong as I ever was." 'Maybe stronger…' he thought for a moment.
"So, who's got your mind so wrapped up you've forgotten we're going into battle?" She asked, sitting down next to him, and crossing her long legs. Petro had always known that Paula was attractive, but he'd never thought of anyone but God, and now Alessandro, for more than a few seconds. Paula, he'd always thought of as a sister.
"I've been…busy lately. The Pope asked me to guard him personally while his elder brother was gone." He said, avoiding the question.
"Ah, so the Pope, then?" She grinned. "A noble aspiration. I wonder how he feels, knowing he is in his most loyal soldiers thoughts constantly."
Petro had to fight not to blush. Instead, he glared at Paula. He knew well how wrong it was that he wanted to be closer to the Pope than any pair of men had a right to be. Soddom and Gommora.
"I only wish to serve him, Sister Paula."
His answer was clipped and Paula noticed. Poor captain…She knew well what it was like to yearn for the unattainable. She laid a hand on the cold-metal shoulder of her fellow Priest.
"It always seemed to me that those highest up are often the most lonely. For, did not God create man in his own image? I do not blame you for wanting to alleviate the Blessed One's loneliness. I commend you for it."
That awarded her a small smile, though it was quickly dragged away in the heat of battle. A battle that Alessandro prayed would not take Petro's life. He knew God cared little for him, but perhaps he would spare the valiant warrior.
It was strange. Everyone assumed God loved him above all others, but Alessandro wondered. How could God possibly love him best, when he'd taken his mother way, not just from him, but from Katerina too? And why did he receive the Papal seat, when Francesco deserved, and desired it far more than he ever would.
But recently, Alessandro had started thinking maybe God made those choices to carve him into the kind of Pope Petro needed to serve. Petro, who was so gruff, yet tried to be kind to him. The only one besides Katerina to reign in his loud boisterous voice for Alessandro's sake.
But he'd probably never see his dark-eyed Knight again. Francesco had found out somehow, and Alessandro hadn't left his chamber in two days. Everyone thought he was sick. They attributed his lack of appetite to that as well, even though it was really Francesco's threat of a worse punishment if he touched the sumptuous meals.
This was how it went when Alessandro did badly. No food for days, isolation from everyone, and then, when that was over, Francesco would finally appear, scream at him for a while, and then…well then, the pain started.
But he had some time before then. If he studied his bible, Francesco might be lenient, especially if he could quote some psalms. Francesco especially liked those. Yes, he should be fine for another day or so, unless someone aggravated the Cardinal.
Katerina sought out her elder brother, sure that the Pope's confinement had to do with him somehow. Alessandro had seemed fine the day she spoke with Petro. Now this sudden illness seemed a little fishy.
Her red robes swished across the marble floors. She was sure she'd find Francesco in the depths of the Cathedral. That's where she went when he was upset by something.
"Can I help you, Cardinal?" The growl that accompanied his words belied the politeness of them, and she found that he had found her, not the other way around, as she had intended. She stood straight, and looked him in the eye.
"I wish to inquire as to where the Pope is. I have not seen his Excellency for a few days now, and I am worried."
God, what a nosy woman! Francesco was angry enough, why did she have to bring up the very source of that anger? Still, he must calm himself. Katerina was smart, and horribly 'Noble'.
"He is indisposed, and has been resting for the last two days. His illness is quite severe, but bed rest will cure him in a few days. There is no reason to worry over his Holiness."
His answer sent a shiver up Katerina's spine. Francesco was the Perpetrator, she knew it now with every fiber of her being. She had to get Alessandro away from him! There was no telling what he would do to the boy in those few days.
But the only one who could overthrow the Cardinal Council's decision is the Pope himself, and Alessandro was far to damaged, to dependent upon Francesco to free himself. She nearly wept in frustration.
Instead, she posed, "Perhaps a doctor should be summoned if the illness is enough to keep him bedridden, Brother?"
"I have already seen to it, Sister." Once again, the growl made a lie of it. He didn't know why she was being so stubborn, but he would be damned if Alessandro spoke ot so much as a fly. "If you'll excuse me, I have things I must attend to."
Katerina felt the weight of guilt, as Francesco stormed off in the direction of the Papal suite. "God help him…"
(Alright, warning. It gets really dark here, not too graphic, but really dark. If you don't like rape, blood, gore and torture, PLEASE, for the love of mercy, skip this.)
Francesco literally stormed in, a full day earlier than Alessandro had predicted. The loud bang of the doors slamming against the wall caused the small brunette to wince. Without realizing, he started whimpering.
"I thought I told you NOT to bother the gaurds with your trivial whining!" Francesco roared, all of his anger and frustration sharpened now that he had a target.
"Than why was I informed that you hung all over Father Orcini while I was gone?!" He struck the first blow, an open palmed smack to his little brother's ear. The resulting yelp was quickly bit back. Francesco didn't like to be interrupted.
"We've always known you like attention, but even I wasn't aware you were a little whore for it!" Francesco growled.
"N-no! I only!" Another strike, this time hard enough to knock him off balance. His heavy robes tripped him, and Alessandro ended up on his behind on the floor.
"Clumsy fool!" Francesco snarled, roughly wrenching the boy to his feet. "Don't try to deny it! Even Katerina confirmed it. You've lain with him in your mind, haven't you, you filthy creature?!"
Alessandro shook his head, denying it, trying to block out his brothers yells. Tears were building in his eyes, as he covered his ears with his hands. This enraged Francesco even more, and he seized the quivering boy's arm, yanking it up.
Twisting the captive arm, he pulled a sharp cry of pain from the Pope. The pain in his arm finally loosened Alessandro's tears. This enraged Francesco was screaming now, and dragging Alessandro towards the bed.
The little leader knew better than to struggle, whatever pain he might be in. He let Francesco tie his hands and feet to the bed, part of his mind already far away and another part, a darker part, telling him he deserved this.
It started slow, Francesco tearing off his clothes with a sadistic smirk. Then came the dagger, and his elder brothers favorite game. Francesco would start a verse, and Alessandro would finish it. If he was wrong, a slow, deep cut into his flesh. If he was right, it was quick and shallow.
Alessandro was more wrong than right.
The worst part of the game was, no matter the outcome, Francesco always rubbed salt in the wounds. Literally.
"To cleanse you, little whore. So you might be worthy of God one day!" He'd always say. Then, Francesco would turn him over, so his blood drenched, aching chest was pressed into the silk sheets.
The first lash was always the most painful. It always brought a scream from him, and the second reduced him to choked sobs. It was ripe, his body, ripe with blood and pain that taunted and pleased his brother. He didn't know when, but he'd learned never to plead for mercy. There was none in Francesco. He wondered if there ever had been.
He had almost slipped unconscious, when the feeling of his flesh being rended stopped. Had his brother finished? Was he forgiven now? No, never. Hands roamed his shredded back, his stinging buttocks. Pressing where the injuries were worst, digging into the flesh, bringing fresh whimpers, as dark chuckles shook Alessandro.
Pain blurred the hours. No matter what his brother did, Alessandro obeyed. Cut this, sit here, swallow this, Alessandro's mind shut down at the sheer volume of pain. It had never been this bad before.
All he could think was, 'Dear God, what have I done to deserve this?'
On it's own, the glass Petro was reaching for cracked. Petro's blue eyebrow raised, and he looked at Paula, who was sitting across the table from him. She shrugged.
"Maybe the altitude?" She offered, gesturing out the window of the airship. Petro sighed, something not settling in him. He had survived the mission, as had almost all of his men, and he was eager to get hom.
Alessandro would be waiting.
That brought a smile to his face. He'd never had anyone waiting for him before. And to think it was the Pope, it almost made him giddy.
But he was worried. Alessandro's assailant could be anyone, as long as they were male. Alessandro had let that slip during their first encounter. He could be hurting him right now, and Petro was too far away to do anything.
It made his blood boil. If something happened while he was not there to protect his Pope, he would never forgive himself. Worse, he didn't think Alessandro would forgive him either.
He suddenly felt anxious, and as his mind wandered, one scenario after another flashed through him. All of them were various ways of torture he'd learned over his years as a soldier.
And the one on the receiving end was his Alessandro.
He shook his head, hard, to remove the offending images, and stood. Paula stood with him, thinking he was just anxious to get off the now-landing airship.
Exiting the transport took more time than Petro cared for, and his patience was running thin. He felt like a stallion, champing at the bit, wanting to run, but being held back.
Soon, his troupe was on its way back to the Papal palace, the heart of Rome. Petro wanted nothing more than to teleport to Cardinal Francesco's office, fast forward through his debriefing, and then find the little Pope. He had an insatiable need to hug the child, and see that small, brilliant smile.
But when he arrived, the servants did not take him to the Cardinal, as he expected. Rather, they took him to a Cardinal. A blonde, worried, pacing Cardinal. Brother Petro had never seen Katerina Sforza, infamous for her stoicism, so agitated.
"Brother Petro, I fear something is very wrong. My brother has not left the Papal Suite in a full week." She intoned. Her voice was low, and wavering as if afraid.
All that Petro could think was, 'That bastard got him again!' Katerina was not prepared for the fierce scowl that appeared on the Priests face, nor the aura of contained rage that flared around him. She gasped, reaching out to stop him, as he stormed out.
Katerina feared she had loosed a lion on her elder brother. As she watched the blunette's back, her breath caught. Perhaps he would have strength where she could not.
Petro's stride was firm, his anger a dull flame lighting his way. No thoughts touched on his path, his legs carried him quickly, Preists and servants scattering before his determined march. He would save Alessandro.
The doors of the Papal Suite slammed open, for the second time in a week, and Petro's ears rang with the pain-filled, anguished sobs coming from deeper in. Petro strode forward, desperation speeding him towards the cries.
A sight far worse than what he had anticipated him greeted entrance into the bedroom. There was blood, splattered, so much he knew it was near fatal. The bedclothes were in disarray, sliding off of the side of the shaking bed. The sounds coming from that bed, hidden by the gauzy curtains, broke his heart and acted as fuel to the fire of hate burning deep in his heart.
Ripping the curtains open confirmed what the sounds had suggested. Petro had indeed interrupted the cruel rape of his Pope.
Alessandro, sweet, beautiful Alessandro lay, motionless, eyes dull, lifeless as any dolls, tears pouring from them. His pale skin was carved with hundreds of knife wounds and ground with sea salt, to an angry, dark red.
Francesco de Medici, Cardinal of the Holy Church of Rome jumped away at the intrusion, removing himself from between his brother's thighs. He was drenched in sweat, seed and blood. Only one of the substances was not his own.
He glared down his nose at Petro, as if daring the other man to make any move against him. The blunette snarled, and with combat trained speed, moved around the corner of the huge bed that kept them separate.
Slowly thought, perhaps not coherent, but thought nonetheless, returned to Alessandro's mind, accompanied by a vague sense that he should still be in pain. Francesco hadn't finished yet…Despite the screaming pain his still-bleeding wounds and aching body gave him, he struggled to sit up, to look around.
A gasp tore from his cracked, dry lips. It was Petro! Petro had come to save him! There was such rage, such black hate on the priests face that Alessandro quaked for a moment, before realizing his Knight wasn't looking at him. The little Pope's eyes, followed the line of Petro's arm, and his vision expanded to encompass what that glare was aimed at.
Francesco, pinned by his throat to the wall, gasping, wriggling. He couldn't breathe! His face was slowly turning a sick blue color, his eyes wide with panic. For a dark moment Alessandro reveled in it, in his brother's fear his helplessness. For that brief Black second, Alessandro wanted Petro to tear Francesco's throat out like a savage wolf.
"No!" Alessandro screamed, as much at his own dark thoughts as at Petro. Tears came, anew, bubbling down his cheeks, tracing clear tracks. Both Petro and Francesco looked at the young Priest.
"Why?" Petro ground out, his pitch black eyes turning back to Francesco. "He hurt you! Has hurt you, for years. He deserves death!"
"No!" Alessandro sobbed, "He's my brother, please!"
Petro growled, his hand tightening around the pale throat of his superior. Alessandro saw, and now struggled, crawled off the blood stained bed, his legs shaking as his bare feet came in contact with the cold marble floor. He clutched onto the bedpost, his abused, tortured body barely able to hold him up.
"Please Petro! Stop this!" He stumbled forward, reaching out. Suddenly, his legs gave out. Alessandro's eyes closed, anticipating the pain of hitting the floor.
But it never came. In the instant Alessandro had closed his eyes, Petro had dropped Francesco, painfully, to the ground, and caught the Pope. Carefully, lovingly, bundling Alessandro into his strong arms, Petro's face shone with worry and concern when those brown eyes opened and looked up.
"Are you alright, your Holiness?" Petro asked, his voice gentle. Alessandro, surprised, blushed and nodded. Petro stood, causing Alessandro to clutch at the cool metal of his Knight's chest plate. It was then his blush deepened as he realized his state of undress.
"I will spare you, because his Holiness has asked me to. But do not think I will allow you to lay a hand on Alessandro again." Petro's deep voice vibrated through the Pope, causing a strange happiness to grow inside the injured boy.
Francesco could only cough, trying to get breath through his bruised throat, He could only watch as his most hated treasure was carried away from him.
Cardinal Francesco de Medici was removed as the Pope's guardian, after a forced-vote perpetrated by Cardinal Katerina Sforza. It was decided that the Pope no longer needed a caretaker.
Alessandro's first decree, out from under Francesco's influence was to place Father Petro Orcini as his head guard. He gave Petro his men to command, because he knew Petro could only be happy battling in the name of God and the Pope.
During a Holy Mass in chich the Pope, both Cardinals and almost all of Rome were present, while Alessandro was blessing the Host, a small, but consequential conversation could be heard between the two Cardinals.
"Ironic, isn't it?" His Holiness became your savior, Cardinal. It is through his will alone that you haven't been excommunicated."
Francesco clenched his fist, his rage and shame burning in his chest. His eyes followed Alessandro, who was now delivering the Host to his guardian, under the pretext of personally providing the Host to the congregation.
He had to admit, this new, vibrant Alessandro was a sight to behold. The people loved their gentle, hesitant Pope. It made the Cardinal sick. The boy was weak willed, easily ruled, yet no one corrected it. No one dared, now that Petro was his guard.
"I know what you're thinking, and you are wrong." Katerina shook her head at her foolish elder brother. "They do not bow out of fear of Petro, as they did of you. They bow out of love for the kind and benevolent soul his Holiness has become."
"I think I will retire from Rome for a while. There is an offensive to be fought on our east flank." Francesco growled out the words, watching the brilliant smile with which Alessandro, three hundred and ninety ninth Pope of the Holiest Rome, led the congregation in a hymn.
It was with a mixture of relief and sorrow that Katerina received those words.
"You did well at Mass today, your Holiness." Petro said, standing near the door. He was amazed that he could stand in this room, after just a few months and not feel that deep, black rage that filled him that day.
But even more amazing was Alessandro's recovery. He was still skittish, and hated raised voices, but under that, he was getting better. If Petro had to describe it, it was like watching a tree grow out from under the dirt. Slow, but miraculous.
Alessandro turned, with a small, shy smile, "You really think so?"
The blunette nodded. "During your sermon, Cardinal Sforza informed me that Cardinal de Medici will be leaving Rome, to help the offensive in the east."
A dark cloud covered the shining sun that was Alessandro's face. The mention of his elder brother and rapist brought back the quivering child from months ago, and the brunette turned from him. His white gloved hand rested on the top of the table in front of him, ladled with his dinner that night.
"Sometimes…"
Petro had to lean forward to hear it.
"Sometimes, I wonder if I did the right thing. Stopping you, I mean. He…He still scares me. So much, I can't breathe."
The blunette was still, as if afraid any movement would scare this moment of honesty away.
"Then, there…a-are other times. Times when I think…I deserved it. That I deserved all the things he did t-to me."
"No." Petro's exclamation startled the little ruler, so much so that he jumped, and spinned, as if anticipating a phantom blow. "No one deserved what he did. Least of all, you."
"Really?" Alessandro's voice was small, and Petro saw the boy was shaking. Uncrossing his arms, Petro strode determinedly over, taking the young one's face in his hands.
"I am your sword, your shield. I am your Knight and protector. You words are the only command I will obey, and I will never, NEVER utter falsehoods in your presence."
Alessandro's smile came back full force at the rememberance of the Knight's 'Bathroom Oath'. He nodded, his hands clutching to those that cradled his cheeks.
"Will you stay with me, Petro?" His lips were inches away from the Blunette's, tempting.
"Always and forever, Alessandro." He breathed, sealing their Pact with a sweet kiss.
End
Now, all you say it with me:
"AAAAAaaaaaaaaaawwwww!"
Otaku: Jeeze that took forever to type up. Surprisingly it took me three days to write.
Petro: Well, I'm just glad it's done.
Otaku: Yeah, but you still didn't get any nookie from Alec.
Alessandro: -Blush-
Petro: Quiet wench.
SEE YOU LATER!!