Blind Justice- The Sacred Angel and the Poison Prince
Prologue
O-o-O-o-O
"I... I came here by day, but I left here in darkness
And found you, found you on the way
And now, it is silver and silent, it is silver and cold
You, in somber resplendence, I hold."
-AFI, Silver and Cold
O-o-O-o-O
Five Years Earlier…
There was a sadness to the day's colors. The skies were a somber grey and the vivid hues of the flora, muted by the lack of sunlight. The nobles, in their gaudy finery, were inside where it was warm, sheltered from the pouring rain. The merchant stalls were closed, the wooden shelves bare of any wares. The few souls remaining outside were haunting figures, veritable ghosts in tattered grey rags, their emaciated bodies streaked with filth.
Removed from the city, nestled amongst fragrant groves and citron orchards was the proud estate, belonging to the affluent Romulus Vargas. Surrounded by a kempt garden of poppies, lilies, daphnes, and ranunculus blossoms, a stately Grecian-style mansion overlooked the sprawling landscape, proud and omniscient.
Approaching the mansion with caution was a small band of bedraggled soldiers and an elderly ecclesiast, saddled on a placid brown palfrey with two small children on his lap. Soaked from the rain, the group hovered nervously in front of the sweeping staircase leading up to a formidable set of ebon double doors.
The younger of the two children cried out pitifully, his stomach aching from hunger. His older brother shook his head, placing a finger against the young child's lips. "Shh," he hissed, his jade-green eyes narrowed. The small child sniffled, but obeyed his older brother, biting his complaints back with a great deal of effort.
A lone soldier trekked up the steps, his armor jangling as he stood there for a nervous moment, before pounding his fist against the door. There was no answer. He tried again, the knock echoing in the air. This time, the doors groaned open. A well-built man with wavy chestnut hair stood in the doorway, opulently clothed in flowing white silk trimmed with scarlet and embroidered with gold filigree. His powerful face with its hollow cheekbones and strong jaw was set in a hard mask, his henna eyes narrowed in suspicion. For a good reason too; it was never a good sign when the Empire's soldiers appeared at your front door, no matter who you were, and despite their ragged appearance, the man before him clearly served the Emperor.
"What is it?" he enquired, his voice spiced with the signature accent of the mediterranean. The soldier grimaced and turned to the side slightly, motioning for the ecclesiast. The old man nodded simply and motioned for help. A burly man with a bushy ginger mustache answered the request, hefting the children off palfrey and slung the ecclesiast's arm over his shoulder, helping the man off.
With a dumbfounded expression, Romulus watched the ecclesiast heft his way up the stairs, the two children following him closely. The youngest child stared intently at Romulus, his cinnamon eyes wide and his caramel-colored locks plastered to his skin by the rain; the oldest looked down at the marble underneath his feet, his face hidden by his messy cocoa bangs. Raising his eyebrows, Romulus gave the guard a chilly look. "What is this?" he demanded.
"These young souls here are Maria's children," answered the ecclesiast, in the voice of rustling leaves and placed a hand on each child's shoulder. Romulus's eyes widened, his jaw dropping. "The eldest is Lovino," the elderly man continued, gently squeezing the older child's shoulder, "and the young one here is Feliciano." The younger child glanced up at the wizened old man, hearing his name.
Romulus gawked at the three of them, lost for words. Rheumy grey eyes stared at him, nearly hidden under wrinkled flesh. "These two children, my dear Romulus, are your grandsons." Romulus placed a hand over his heart, feeling it throb painfully in his chest. At long last, he found his voice.
"If these children…" he breathed "... are my grandsons… Then what happened to my daughter? And my son-in-law?" He bit his bottom lip, struggling against the tears that threatened to spill over, already knowing the answer. The two children exchanged looks with each other, unsure of what was happening.
"Both Maria and Demetri were killed under mysterious circumstances," the ecclesiast explained. Romulus startled as if he had been slapped. A dark shadow crossed his face, contorting it into a demonic visage; then, as suddenly as the shadow came, it was gone.
"What do you mean by 'mysterious circumstances'? Surely, not magic? Mana can truly not be returning to these lands, can it?" Romulus's voice was hollow, void of all feeling except despair. The ecclesiast gave him a piercing look, his liver-dark lips pressed into a thin line.
"I do not know so well myself, Romulus. All I can say is that troubled times are swift approaching, we must steel ourselves for the incoming storm. For it will be vicious, but Romulus…" His words trailed into a taut silence. Romulus looked confusedly at the ecclesiast, his expression urging him to continue.
"You must take care of these children, for they have been chosen by the Lord, himself." He motioned for Lovino to hold out his arm. The eldest child looked at him with a bewildered expression, but obliged and rolled up his sleeve, revealing an intricate tattoo: a swirling stygian mess of lines, forming a butterfly.
A noise of amazement escaped from Romulus, he jerked back. Lovino snorted petulantly and yanked his sleeve back down, covering the mark.
The ecclesiast smiled sadly, dipping his head briefly. "Please… will you take care of them?"
Romulus frowned and shook his head, but not as a "no". Staring at the ecclesiast with a strange expression, he asked "Do I really have much a choice after what you just told me?" The ecclesiast's lips twisted upwards in a wry smile.
"My dear Romulus, you always have a choice," he retorted dryly.
Romulus sighed and hung his head, defeated. "You know that I would never be so heartless or foolhardy." He alternated a glance between his two grandsons. "Of course I will take-" he sniffled, wiping a tear away from the corner of his eye "-them in."
The ecclesiast smiled tenderly and performed a slight bow, the golden rosary he wore around his neck glinting in the light radiating from inside the mansion. "Thank you, Romulus. Now I can be on my way." He turned around, starting for downstairs.
Romulus raised an eyebrow and held a hand backwards. "Don't you want to come in and rest for a moment? The weather outside is miserable." The ecclesiast chortled lowly and shook his head, his rakish grin widening as a couple of moans rose up from the disappointed soldiers.
"It is, but not nearly as bad as some of the trials I have faced during my long life." He bowed his head briefly. "I wish all of you the best. And you two!" He looked sternly at the two children who stiffened under his steely gaze. "Behave yourselves and follow your Nonno's orders. Don't give him too much grey hair, he'll be getting plenty of that later in his life." He added the last sentence with a light laugh. Lovino and Feliciano relaxed slightly and Romulus groaned, burying his face in his hands. With one last smile, the ecclesiast hobbled down the stairs, mounting the palfrey with some difficulty, and departed alongside the soldiers.
Romulus and his grandchildren watched them go until they were lost amidst the misty drizzle. He sniffled again, choking back a sob. "Nonno…" trailed Feliciano, tilting his head back slightly, "is something wrong?" Lovino snorted and shook his head.
"Can't you see the position we're in, Feli?" he asked tartly. Feliciano gaped at him, confusedly. Romulus sighed and wiped his eyes, pressing his lips into a thin line.
"Don't use that tone with your little brother, Lovino," he chastised. Lovino frowned and hung his head, shamefaced. Romulus heaved a deep breath, his eyelids fluttering and gently took the children by their hand, guiding them inside.
-The Sacred Angel and The Poison Prince-
The butterflies were beautiful, pulsating with an aureate glow. Vivid scarlet, warm amber, verdant green, and melancholic cobalt were among the few colors as they flitted amongst the flowers. Perching on a white rose, a turquoise butterfly stretched its opaque wings, effused with the radiance of the sun.
Relaxing in the shade of the olive tree and inhaling the heady fragrance of the garden's flowers, Lovino smiled as a lavender butterfly rested on his nose. It was weird, most bugs terrified him, but these butterflies were different from the spiders, and the centipedes, and the bees. Different from even the other butterflies. They soothed him, made him feel at ease. Powerful even. Strangely enough, despite their vast number, only he seemed to notice them. The butterfly fluttered away, joining another on the rose-streaked petals of a lily.
He watched it go with a certain amount of longing. Perhaps it was better that only he could see them, lest they'd get their wings plucked off by the unruly brats who came with their parents to visit Nonno, or eaten by the scrawny stray cats that solicited the garden, attracted by the leftovers Feliciano would leave out for them.
"Fratello! Fratello!" Feliciano cried out, bursting into the garden. The butterflies scattered, streaking off into the sky and disappearing. Lovino groaned irritably and sat up, tilting his head to the side.
"Che cosa?" he queried, pushing himself off the ground and brushing the grass off his long white linen tunic. Feliciano rushed over to him, holding a couple of floral chaplets in his arms: one was made of fuchsia wax flowers and the other, of mauve ceanothus.
"See what I made?" Feliciano held the chaplets out, showing them off. "Aren't they pretty?" Lovino allowed a faint smile and shyly nodded his head. Feliciano was as irritating as they came in terms of little brothers, but there was no denying his talents. Besides, Lovino really did love flowers.
"Sì," agreed Lovino. His little brother beamed and placed the one made of the ceanothus on his head. Lovino's eyes widened, his hand drifting up to the floral wreath. "O-oh… Grazie…" Lovino looked away, hiding the faint red that tinged his cheeks. Feliciano giggled.
"Of course! Why would I make two if I wasn't going to share one with you?" he asked and placed the other chaplet on his head. Lovino shrugged and sat back down. Feliciano hesitated, but seeing the encouraging nod his older brother gave, sat down next to him. He couldn't always be sure if it was alright to hang out with Lovino. At best, his older brother could be described as mercurial. At worst, unstable.
Lovino sighed and looked up at the celestial blue sky. Feliciano stole a glance at him, an eyebrow raised. "Is something on your mind?" He leaned closer to his older brother. Lovino looked down and shook his head.
"No, nothing that's too important. Just zoning out," he replied absentmindedly and started to pluck at the grass. Feliciano nodded and drew back, resting his back against the tree trunk. A teasing breeze wafted through the air, playing with the single large curl in his hair. Feliciano stole a glance at Lovino, looking at the similar curl he had in his hair, and hastily averted his gaze back.
"The cook gave me a couple frittoles today," Feliciano stated, "if you want a couple, I can-"
"I'm fine," Lovino interjected curtly, crossing his arms.
Feliciano sighed and squirmed restlessly, drumming his fingers against the ground. Overhead, the leaves rustled and birdsong rang out. How can Fratello sit in one place for so long? Even if he was zoning out, he shouldn't be able to sit in one place for a good hour. It's unnatural, Feliciano thought."Fratello… I'm bored," he whined. Lovino gave him a chafed look.
"Idiot, I'm not forcing you to sit here," he snapped. "If you want to leave, then leave!" Feliciano shuddered, recoiling from his older brother's biting words.
"But… I want to do something with you!" Feliciano exclaimed, his eyes wide. "The other kids are mean and the adults are no fun!" He pouted, giving Lovino the puppy-dog eyes. A muscle in Lovino's jaw twitched. Nope, nope. Not happening. No way he was going to give in to his little brother's pouty, wide-eyed gaze, like all the adults did. No way in-
"Per favore, fratello?" pleaded Feliciano.
Dammit.
"Bene," Lovino groaned and stood up, adjusting his slightly askew flower chaplet. Feliciano squealed, clapping his hands together.
"Grazie!" he cried out exuberantly, dancing circles around his older brother. "Grazie! Grazie! Grazie!" He stumbled, nearly falling over, his floral chaplet tumbling to the ground. Lovino sighed and walked over to the fallen chaplet, bending over to pick it up and place it on his little brother's head.
"Be careful, idiota," he snorted, rolling his eyes. Feliciano chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.
"Scusa," he apologized. Lovino shrugged, looking towards the mansion. "Anyways…" Feliciano continued, "do you want to go back to the house and make some scupidù?" He looked expectantly at Lovino, who nodded.
"Sounds fine."
"Great!" Feliciano practically glowed in jubilation. He grabbed Lovino by the hand and practically dragged him back to the mansion, singing a cheery tune.
-The Sacred Angel and The Poison Prince-
The moment the two brothers entered the mansion, they could instantly sense something was off. Standing in the lounge with a despondent expression was Romulus, looking worn and defeated, accompanied by two others whom the brothers saw only once or twice before: a slender blonde man, in his late-thirties, clothed in the sumptuous wear of the Empire's religious leaders; and the other was a tall and lean man with tanned skin, black hair, and a sharp, angular face, dressed in elaborate crimson livery.
The brothers paused, startled by Romulus's expression. Never before had he looked so weary and… old. He always appeared much younger than he really was, but now… Bravely, Feliciano stepped forth. "Nonno, who are these people?" he enquired. Romulus looked away, as if guilty of something.
Lovino hissed and narrowed his eyes, protectively stepping in front of his little brother with arms outstretched. "Ok, spill it," he demanded, "what did you do?" The mysterious blonde man frowned and turned to Romulus.
"How rude, I do hope this is not Feliciano." He tilted his head to the side, amber eyes narrowed into little slits. The other unknown man chortled, and rubbed his goatee.
"He's a feisty one, no?" He faced the blonde man. "But, no worries… Isn't this child, Lovino?" He directed the question to Romulus, who nodded mutely. Lovino's eyes widened. The man chuckled. "Ah, I remember when he was just a babe," he mused. "Even then, he was a spitfire."
"Who the hell are you? And what is going on?" he thundered, his face twisting into a dark expression. The air shimmered and rippled, the butterflies materializing indoors, flashing a myriad of colors. Lovino gasped, jerking backwards. Never before had that ever happened. The butterflies shifted, their glow strengthening.
"Giovanni, what is going on?" Romulus cried out. He couldn't see the butterflies, but he could sense something was off. The blonde- Giovanni- smirked and strolled over to Lovino, placing a hand on the child's forehead, and muttered a quick sentence.
Lovino let out an indignant yelp as his strength surged out of him. He crashed to the ground, his legs bereft of feeling. "Fratello!" Feliciano screamed, clapping his hands over his mouth. Lovino gasped, his arm, where the mark he had all his life was, burning with an agonizing fire.
"Giovanni! What did you do?" Romulus demanded, looking irate. Giovanni stared coolly at him and tilted his chin upwards.
"The devil shall work no more of his evil," he replied evenly. Lovino hissed and staggered to his feet, clutching at his arm.
"Y-you!" he wheezed, bending over as a fresh wave of pain crashed through him. The butterflies faded into thin air. "B-bastard!" He bared his teeth in a vicious scowl. Giovanni sighed and shook his head, folding his arms. "What is this, Nonno?" Lovino thundered, his eyes flashing.
Romulus grimaced and exchanged glances with the two men. Giovanni smiled a cat's smile and turned back towards the brothers. "My apologies," he drawled sardonically. "I am Monsignor Giovanni Abate, a simple man in service of the Empire and the Lord." He bowed, flourishing it with an elaborate hand gesture.
"You're as slippery as a snail's ass!" Lovino shot back vehemently. Feliciano whimpered, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Fratello, stop… please," he begged. Lovino scowled, his gaze meeting Giovanni's, but made no further comment. "What did you do?" He looked up at Giovanni, his eyes wide and fearful. The Monsignor smiled warmly, completely at odds with the cold, simpering expression he donned just a moment earlier.
"I just purged your brother of evil," he replied. Feliciano's eyes widened, not quite understanding. Seeing it, Giovanni shook his head. "You know you are special, no?" Feliciano continued to stare blankly at him. Giovanni sighed, lifting his gaze up at the domed ceiling. "Do you have any special mark, young one?"
Feliciano nodded slowly and rolled up his sleeve, displaying an elaborate silver cross on his wrist. "Yeah… this one…" he trailed warily. Giovanni beamed, looking quite pleased with himself.
"Now, have you ever done, or seen, anything unusual?" he pressed. Feliciano paused, as if hesitating to tell the Monsignor something. "Well, young one?" Giovanni cocked his head to the side. Lovino inhaled sharply, racking his mind for all the unnatural occurrences that had happened when Feliciano was around.
For one thing, the butterflies always disappeared when he appeared. Then, there was that time when he had fallen down the stairs and broken his leg, yet when Feliciano oversaw it, healed as if it had never been broken in the first place.
"Well… sometimes…" Feliciano trailed, "I heal people without knowing it. Then, there was this kid who kept bullying me and well… One day, he was dangling me from a third story window, and I don't know what happened next… but he… I don't know… wasn't quite the same afterwards…" He bit his bottom lip, looking petrified. Giovanni nodded, his grin broadening.
It made Lovino sick.
"Well, why the fuck are you here?" Lovino growled, cringing as his head throbbed. Romulus shot him a pleading look, the same expression he gave Lovino whenever the child was about to do or say something stupid. Giovanni's smile turned frigid, his amber eyes, cold and calculating.
"Why, we're here to set you on your fated path in life."
Lovino tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean by 'we're'?" He glanced at the other unknown man. "Who are you?" he snapped. The other man smirked, his dark eyes, flinty, devoid of any warmth.
"I am Francisco Javier Carriedo," he replied, his voice deep and powerful. Lovino's mouth snapped open, forming a perfect "o" of surprise. He knew the Carriedo family, not personally, but he heard the rumors, and while the rumors were only rumors… They did not paint a pretty picture.
"Why are you here?" Lovino yelped, taking a step backwards. Francisco chortled mirthlessly, baring his gleaming white teeth in a fierce approximation of a smile.
"Isn't it obvious? I've come here to collect my new servant. Romulus says you're quite good with plants." He sneered at Romulus, who looked away. Lovino gulped, his mouth as dry as cotton and coated with an acrid film that burned his tongue.
"W-what does that have to do with anything?" Lovino whispered. Francisco broadened his smirk.
"You'll find out when you get there."
Lovino clenched his teeth together, his hands tightening into fists. Feliciano looked fearfully at Giovanni, as if the Monsignor was a ravenous wolf, and he, a small rabbit. "What are you here for, then… Signore?"
Giovanni smiled. "I am to take you to the Capitol, where you can begin your training as a Priest, so you can later ascend to your rightful status as the Vicar of the Lord."
Feliciano went as white as a ghost. Romulus's jaw dropped while Lovino's eyes went as wide as saucers. The Vicar of the Lord, sometimes referred to as the Pope, was only the most powerful authority figure besides the Emperor. And here, Feliciano was going to-
"What?" Lovino blurted out abruptly, too stupefied to think straight.
Giovanni chuckled and clasped his hands together. "I understand it is daunting, young one," he addressed Feliciano. "But, this is your destiny." Feliciano blanched, absolutely terrified.
"Wha-how… How come fratello won't be with me?" he cried out, distressed. Giovanni's expression darkened, he shot Lovino a dark look as if he was a pig that had rolled around in horse shit.
"Lovino… he… is a unique case… Don't worry, there shouldn't be no trouble."
"That's not what I meant!" Feliciano wailed, streaking past Giovanni and flinging his arms around Romulus's legs. "Nonno! Don't let me take them away from you and fratello!" he sobbed, burying his face in his grandfather's robes. Romulus bent down, placing a both hands on Feliciano's shoulders, and gently extracted the child from his robes.
"I'm sorry, I cannot defy-"
"NO!" Feliciano screamed and clutched his grandfather's robes as if they were a lifeline. Giovanni sighed airily, as if watching the theatre, and tapped his foot against the marble. Furious, Lovino whirled in Giovanni's direction.
"You sick fuck! You're probably getting a kick out of this!" he roared, "and undo what you did to me as well you bastard!" Giovanni shot Lovino a scalding look, his upper lip curling back in disgust.
"Do not presume to order me around, child. That sort of behavior will not serve you well in the future." He turned to face Francisco. "Please take him away, so I can settle this little matter and be off. The Deacon will not be pleased if I am late."
Francisco nodded and strolled over to Lovino, roughly grabbing his arm. "Hey! You bastard!" Lovino yelped. "Leggo!" he screeched as Francisco dragged him out of the mansion.
"FRATELLO!" Feliciano screamed and ran towards Lovino, but was stopped by Giovanni, as the Monsignor grabbed the back of his tunic. "NO!"
And here's the first chapter of my rewrite of Blind Justice! There are some major differences, so I thought it'd be appropriate to change the title a bit as well XD I don't know how this Blind Justice wound up different than originally intended, but I read this book called "Poison" by some author I can't remember, and rather than starting a new story, I just ingrained that with a story I planned to rewrite. I hope this wasn't too bad of a chapter, is all I'm saying. So… if you like this story… please R&R! I'll be sure to respond some way! Everything except flames are welcome!
Translation notes (Everything is Italian this chapter):
Nonno- Grandfather
Fratello- Brother
Bene- Fine
Sì- Yes
Grazie- Thanks
Scusa- Sorry
Idiota- Dumbass
Che cosa?- What is it?
Per favore, fratello?- Please, brother?
Signor- Sir