Chapter 19: A Simple Prayer

A/N: Please forgive Cesare's soliloquy in this chapter… he kind of insisted on it.

A/N 2: Good for Chiaro, coming up with a very obvious suggestion that no one has thought of (for some reason). Yes, it's obvious. This story does take place in the Vatican, after all. So please no flames.

A/N 3: The Confiteor, which is what Cesare recites in this chapter, is a Catholic liturgical prayer of confession. It (along with the rest of mass and all other religious ceremonies) would have been said in Latin in Cesare's day. Having grown up in the Church, Cesare has probably known it since he was very young and said/heard it hundreds of times. Since he's a cardinal, he would say the priest's version, saying "and to you, brethren" at the end of the list of the people he's confessing to, rather than "and to you, father," which ordinary people would say to the priest. At any rate, he's not stumbling because he's unfamiliar with the prayer.

A/N 4: By the way, Cesare is dead on in his assessment of Chiaro—even in the manga, Chiaro said he would gladly be Cesare's Azazel goat, meaning he'd be destroyed in Cesare's place if it meant Cesare would be all right.

Cesare really did try to stay in good spirits for the journey home, mostly because Chiaro was trying so hard to cheer him up. At length, though, Chiaro seemed to give up and settled for riding close to Cesare and staying quiet. Oddly, this was actually what made Cesare feel better. He stopped as Rome came into view, feeling a sense of dread.

A hand touched his shoulder, sending away the demons. "I wish I knew how to encourage you," Chiaro said. "But I don't know what you want."

"Well, that makes two of us," Cesare said.

There was a pause. "Well… the food will be better at home."

Cesare turned around with raised eyebrows and laughed a little. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Assuming we don't immediately get arrested, we can have a nice dinner." He passed his hand over his face. "Well. It won't do me any good to just look at it."

An hour later, they were back in the Vatican, and Cesare hurriedly donned his cardinal's robe to appear before his father.

"Cesare?" his father exclaimed as soon as he stepped in. "Where have you been?" He descended from his papal throne to come closer to Cesare, though not too close. Never too close.

"Why father, your concern is so touching," Cesare replied, giving an ironic smile. He glanced at Chiaro, then looked back at his father. "Forgive me. My most loyal assistant, Michael da Corelia, was poisoned and nearly tortured to death. I could not in good conscience come back to Rome without him until I knew he was well enough, and I could not bring him with me because of the seriousness of his injuries. I therefore ask your pardon for any inconvenience I may have caused you."

"You could not in good conscience?" the pope asked, looking a little confused. He looked at Chiaro. "This man must mean a great deal to you."

Cesare said nothing.

"What do you know of Lord Pisano?"

"Is there a reason I should know anything about him?" Cesare asked, trying to look innocent and succeeding rather well.

"We had heard that it was he who kidnapped and tortured Michael."

"Indeed."

"Thirty-seven armed men in Lord Pisano's castle are dead now, and Lord Pisano himself is nowhere to be found."

Cesare couldn't help blinking at this. Nowhere to be found? Then he remembered that Pisano's body had disintegrated, leaving nothing but a skeleton. How extraordinarily lucky. "If Pisano chooses to demolish his personal guard, what has that to do with me?"

"All of the prison guards were dead."

"Indeed? Then I can only assume that upon finding Michael gone, Pisano took his frustration out on those who should have kept watch."

"Upon finding Michael gone?"

"Yes, father. As I said, Michael is my most loyal man, and Tagio della Volpe and I went to rescue him upon learning that Pisano intended to torture him to death."

"What happened?"

"Really, father. Clearly, as Michael is here and not dead, we succeeded."

"Was anyone killed in the process?"

"If someone threatened to kill you in the process of rescuing your right-hand man, what would you do?"

The pope closed his eyes. "But you didn't kill Lord Pisano?"

"No, father." That was a combined effort of myself, Tagio, and Chiaro. Not that you'll ever know.

"Do you know if Lord Pisano is dead?"

"I have no idea. After we had secured our ability to escape with Michael, we left. Fearing that Pisano would come after us with a greater force, we thought it wise to hide until Michael was well enough that, were we attacked on the road, we would at least be able to make a hasty retreat."

"I see." The pope sighed. "Well, we will continue to search for Lord Pisano, or his body if that is the case. Have you anything further to say?"

"I will, of course, need an update on everything that has happened in my absence. But for now, I believe the three of us need rest, if you will excuse me."

"You are excused."

Cesare bowed low and motioned for Chiaro and Volpe. Within an hour, they were sitting around a table, eating dinner. Cesare was quiet, but he occasionally glanced up at Volpe or Chiaro, making sure they were getting along and simply reflecting. How could his two most loyal companions be such polar opposites? And why did they seem to be more and more mutually exclusive?

Cesare smiled a little. Well, of course they were. Cesare had two sides to his soul, one dark and demonic that attracted Volpe, and the other what remained of his human soul, which attracted Chiaro. Not that Cesare's human side was anything particularly wonderful. It was bitter, twisted, possessive, suspicious, and lonely… but apparently it could still love. And now the demons were growing stronger, and the love was growing stronger… and the more his soul fought with itself, the more Chiaro and Volpe seemed to be fighting. Or rather, Volpe seemed to be bent on destroying Chiaro. Chiaro didn't seem particularly hostile toward Volpe, but Chiaro never seemed particularly hostile toward anyone, unless they were directly trying to hurt Cesare.

"So, your explanation to your father was amazing," Chiaro said presently.

"Thank you," Cesare replied. "The lack of a body was certainly helpful."

"It makes me wonder," Volpe said, "if he's really dead."

"Pisano is," Cesare replied. "But his demons aren't. They fled, and Pisano's link to life—and apparently the vast majority of his human body—died at their retreat."

"Will it work that way for you?" Volpe asked. "If Chiaro were no longer a threat, would you become immortal?"

Chiaro set down his knife, his hand crossing to his sword-hilt.

"Perhaps," Cesare said. "But I would rather have Chiaro with me, and I think your death threats are making him nervous. I do not see Chiaro as a threat."

"How can you not?" Volpe asked. "He is the only thing standing between you and your victory. Don't you see that?"

"Hey, I'm sitting right here, you know," Chiaro said mildly.

"As if you didn't know this already," Volpe said, scornfully. "How do you not see it as the ultimate act of disloyalty to even stay here?"

"Volpe, leave the table," Cesare said.

"Master Cesare, I—!"

"Leave the table."

Angrily, Volpe got to his feet and left the room.

"Thank you," Chiaro said weakly. He reached for his wine shakily, but Cesare took it from him. "Cesare?"

"Forgive me, I'm feeling a bit paranoid." He took a sip of Chiaro's wine and winced a little at the taste. "As I suspected. He poisoned it, though I don't know when or how."

"Cesare, you—!"

"…are immune to poisons," Cesare finished for him. "But they still taste bad. I believe I will open a new bottle of wine, just in case." He got one from the cupboard, along with two new cups. "This is a better wine, anyway," he said, pouring each of them a glass and taking a sip of his first, just in case.

"Thank you," Chiaro said again. He sighed. "I think… he does mean to kill me."

"Really? What gave you that impression? The attack this morning or the deadly poison in your cup?"

"Heh." Chiaro tried to smile.

Cesare took his food and sniffed it, tasting a bit to be safe. When he was satisfied, he handed it back. "Eat your food. I'll do something about him, I promise you."

Chiaro sighed and started eating his lasagna.

"I have panforte for dessert."

Chiaro smiled. "Nice," he said with a laugh. He took another bite of his food, but seemed oddly distracted as he finished eating.

"Chiaro?"

Chiaro swallowed his last bite. "Am I really… that much of a hindrance?" he asked, his voice uncertain. "That you can never have the power you want… or achieve your goals… or anything, because of me?" He looked down. "I wanted to help you, not cut you off from what you wanted. I mean, I don't care if you conquer the world, but if it means so much to you, I don't want to be such an obstacle." He met Cesare's eyes. "I can be more ruthless, if that would help."

Cesare didn't know anything anymore. Chiaro seemed somehow more devoted to him than ever, and he wasn't certain this was a good thing for Chiaro. He looked away. "No," he said. "It's for that reason I love you so much. I love who I become when I'm with you." He put his face in his hands. "I want out. I just can't think of a way."

"Do you?"

"Yes. I don't care anymore, I just want out."

Chiaro's chair scraped, and a moment later, an arm had gone round his shoulders, washing away the scorching demons in sweet light. Cesare relaxed a little. "Then we'll find a way," Chiaro said. "We will."

"But what if we can't?" Cesare asked, looking up. "What if it's too late? What if I can't stop it now?" He wasn't managing very well to control his emotions, so he turned his face back to his hand. "Chiaro, what if I do become like Pisano? Or even Volpe? He's scaring me to death." He gave Chiaro a sidelong glance. "And honestly, I find it hard to believe you'll actually kill me if it comes to that."

"I will if you become like Pisano."

"No, you won't."

There was a pause. "I might."

Cesare smiled a little. "By then it will be too late."

There was a much longer pause. "You could… try praying," Chiaro suggested hesitantly.

Cesare looked at him incredulously. "Praying?"

Chiaro chewed his lip a little. "Well, see… remember when you were fighting with Pisano and suddenly he got grounded to his body?"

"Yes."

"That happened right after I prayed."

Cesare stared. "You prayed for me?"

"I pray for you a lot." Chiaro sounded tentative, like he wasn't sure Cesare would approve of this.

"To who? God?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Chiaro gave him a look like the answer ought to be obvious.

"I thought you were doing that back there."

"No. I'm not that amazing."

"You think he was doing it?"

"Well, it stands to reason. I mean, he is supposed to be stronger than the devil, right?"

Cesare was still staring. "But… I was abandoned by God at birth."

"Maybe, maybe not. Maybe you just thought you'd been abandoned."

Cesare thought about this. Thought about the angel sitting beside him, keeping the demons at bay, somehow loving him. "I suppose… he did give me you," he said quietly. He had no doubt that Chiaro had come to him directly from God, and Vanozza as well. He paused for a moment. "So… what? You think… I should pray… for exorcism?"

"If that's what you want."

Just like Chiaro to think it would be so simple. "Chiaro… there are rituals for exorcism. I would need to go through priests, and get it approved by my father, and find an exorcist, and—"

"Or," Chiaro interrupted, "you could just ask him. I mean… in the Bible, there weren't a lot of rituals to go through. Jesus just told them to get lost."

Cesare blinked. "How would you know?" Chiaro was right, but biblical knowledge wasn't exactly common, and he'd been a peasant.

"I've read the Bible. Or at least the gospels."

"You have? Since when can you read Latin? I thought that was your worst subject."

"Cesare, this is beside the point. I think he can help you."

Cesare sighed. "How can I talk to him? Isn't there some saint I ought to go through, some patron of those who wish to be exorcized?"

Chiaro shrugged. "Um… I'd need to see a book of saints. Wouldn't it be easier just to go to him directly?"

"Shouldn't I at least be confessed first?"

"Confess to him. It's not like he doesn't already know."

Cesare smiled a little. "You know, your theology wouldn't go over very well with most priests."

Chiaro sighed. "You're not most priests. And you can't blame me. All our religion classes were in Latin. I managed to learn a bit of Latin, but not any religion. So I just had to go by what I read. I kind of trust my judgment over your father's."

Cesare chuckled. "You think you know better than the pope?"

"Do you see me sleeping around and selling my children to the devil?"

"I'm not saying you don't know better," Cesare said, still smiling. What if Chiaro was the pope? Nothing would ever get done that involved any sort of destruction, but the world would probably be a happier place.

"Well?" Chiaro asked.

Cesare thought for a minute. "Do you really think he can do anything for me?"

"Him more than anyone."

"But do you think he would? I've never done anything for him. I've been a corrupt cardinal, using his influence to wage war on the world. He must hate me."

"Well… if you stop…."

Cesare smiled a little, remembering an earlier conversation in which he had said he doubted God would redeem him since he had no intention of giving up his designs. Now he was almost eager to. "If I can." He sighed. "Well… I suppose I could try." He preferred that option to drinking Chiaro's blood.

Hours after dinner, Cesare went with Volpe to one of the many chapels in the Vatican palace. Chiaro had offered to go, of course, and Cesare had wanted to take him, but he'd been so obviously tired that he hadn't had the heart. And Cesare didn't want to leave Volpe alone with him, so Volpe had to come along. Cesare did, however, leave Volpe outside the chapel to stand guard in case something happened… and so he wouldn't interfere.

He still wasn't sure about this. He doubted he was in very good standing with the Creator of the universe at the moment, and he didn't know what would happen if God did choose to interfere. But he didn't only have himself to worry about anymore. Chiaro's wellbeing depended on him getting rid of the demons as much as his own, because of Chiaro's devotion to him and determination to save him.

Chiaro always gave to him, but even Chiaro had to have a limit. And Cesare's heart was a very deep well that seemed to have had a hole knocked into it when his father and Marrone had betrayed him, or perhaps when the demons had possessed him. For the last several months, Chiaro had been pouring love into it faster than it could leak out, and Cesare had craved it, grasping for it, and Chiaro had always given it to him. At some point, Cesare had decided he loved Chiaro, by which he meant he wanted him to jump into the well, seal up the hole with his own heart, and stay there forever. It was only now that he realized this was exactly what Chiaro was trying to do, and if Cesare didn't either stop him or somehow change the environment of his heart… Chiaro would drown.

Cesare's definition of "love" had changed drastically since he'd first told Chiaro he loved him, though he didn't know if Chiaro had ever noted the difference. Now he wanted to love and care for Chiaro, as best he could with his twisted soul. At the beginning, he'd primarily wanted to possess Chiaro, to the point where he'd promised to hunt Chiaro down and put him to torture if he ever left, while at the same time saying he loved him. Chiaro had shrugged and smiled it away, because Chiaro never reacted the way normal people did, but that had really been a very horrible thing to say. It horrified Cesare now. Chiaro would never in a million years dream of torturing him, no matter what he did.

But even now that Cesare loved Chiaro more than he'd ever loved anyone, he still couldn't promise he wouldn't ever hurt Chiaro, much as he hated himself for it. He wasn't safe. He'd never be safe. And Chiaro, for all of his efforts, couldn't save him. He would only be destroyed in the process of trying, and Cesare was somewhat surprised to realize that the idea of destroying Chiaro hurt him much more than the idea of losing him. Cesare needed to protect him, even if it meant stopping him before he fell on the sword that was his master.

But he couldn't seem to convince Chiaro that he had done enough, because Chiaro would only consider it enough when Cesare was healed, and he seemed perfectly willing to be destroyed in the process if that was what it took. Cesare loved him for it, but he also knew that it was impossible, even if the idea didn't repel him. He would consume Chiaro, body and soul, and even after consuming him, he would not be satisfied, because the demons could not be satisfied. They, and Cesare by extension, were a fire that would never say "enough." Chiaro could not heal him. Only God could, theoretically, but Cesare had no idea if he would, or whether he would destroy Cesare in the process. He had no idea what he would need to give up, though he knew he would be willing to sacrifice almost anything.

Cesare took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then he went and knelt before the cross. His mind felt curiously blank. He could spin a web of diplomatic lies for his father and be the soul of political tact when he spoke to kings and lords, but he couldn't muster a simple prayer to God. He swallowed and looked up at the crucifix, studying Jesus' face. Something in it reminded him briefly of Chiaro, and the knots in his stomach relaxed a little, but he still didn't know how to start. He decided to try to be logical about this. How did one start when making a request of God? Well, obviously, with confession. He had a prayer for that at least.

Cesare swallowed and prayed in Latin, taking refuge in liturgy. "I confess to Almighty God, to blessed Mary ever Virgin, to blessed Michael the Archangel…." He smiled a little. Michael the Archangel. Michelotto. How ironic. "…to blessed John the Baptist, to the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, to all the Saints, and to you, breth…." He broke off. There weren't any brethren around to confess to. All the same, there seemed to be quite a lot of people to confess to. He sighed a little, and tried to continue, though he was sweating. "…that I have sinned…." He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, then tried again. "…that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word and deed." Come to think of it, he really didn't like this prayer. He swallowed, feeling the weight suddenly of the lives he had ended or broken beyond repair. The pain he had inflicted on Chiaro and Lucrezia, the only two people he loved. The atrocities he'd forced his angel to commit. Why did Chiaro still love him? If Chiaro could, could God? Would someone perfect be more able to forgive than someone imperfect or less able? Logically, it would be the latter, but on the other hand… he sighed. Just keep praying.

He took a deep breath and tried to continue. "Mea… mea culpa, mea culpa, mea… maxima culpa. Through my fault, my most grievous fault." He swallowed again. What was he even doing here? What made him think God would even listen to him? He finished the last part at a rush. "Therefore I beseech blessed Mary ever Virgin, blessed Michael the Archangel, blessed John the Baptist, the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, and all the Saints, to pray for me to the Lord our God." Right. Ask the Virgin Mary, Michael the Archangel, and all the Saints to pray for a demoniac. "Lord have mercy," he whispered, speaking Greek this time. "Kyrie Eleison." He had to face it. No one was going to pray for him. All he could do was try to pray for himself.

"So… Chiaro… thought I should talk to you," Cesare said quietly in Italian. It didn't feel right being so casual, but none of the liturgical prayers he knew seemed to fit praying for exorcism, and speaking Italian made it slightly easier to say what he was feeling. "So… so here I am." All the same, it felt very strange. He had never in all his life prayed directly to God in a non-liturgical prayer.

Cesare continued, "I… I know… you might not want to listen to me, but…." Cesare stopped talking. He looked back at Jesus' face, then looked down. He wished Chiaro was here. He ought to have taken him up on the offer. Chiaro, his angel, could tell him how to pray. He'd said 'be sincere.' So Cesare took a deep breath and decided on straight honesty. "I'm… I'm sorry." So inadequate. He closed his eyes, looking down, then bit his lip and looked up pleadingly. "I don't want to do this anymore. I mean, some part of me does, but in my heart of hearts… the part I want to save, that can love Chiaro, and enjoy beauty, and feel peace… that part of me doesn't want to anymore, and I am willing to give up anything to keep that. But I don't know how to stop… I don't know how to get out… and I'm scared." Oh, great. There were tears in his eyes. He was crying before Almighty God. Perhaps God would take pity on him?

Cesare swallowed. "I'm sorry… but I'm scared, and I'm trapped, and if anyone can help me, it's you, because I can't, and even Chiaro can't completely, and I don't want him to destroy himself by trying." He wiped away his tears with his sleeve. "So… if there's some way to get rid of the demons… then I promise I'll do my best to serve you from now on, and I'll protect and care for the people you give me, not exploit them, especially Chiaro. I will never make him kill again. I will use whatever abilities I have left for good, as best I can. So, if you will…." He stopped again and closed his eyes, bowing low on the altar. "Please."

The room was silent, but in the silence, Cesare sensed suddenly that he wasn't alone. Someone was here, approaching him. His heartbeat accelerated, and he wondered if he ought to have brought a sword. But then, this presence did not feel threatening… at least, not in a way where a sword would have made Cesare feel safer. "Are you not your own god?" an unfamiliar voice asked. "Can you not save yourself?"

Cesare's eyes opened wide, but he didn't look up. That wasn't a human's voice. It wasn't a demon's voice either. It didn't sound angry or sarcastic. More… curious. "No," Cesare replied. "I'm not. And I can't."

"Do you want me to cast out your demons?"

Cesare swallowed. This was… real? This was possible? "I…." He closed his eyes and remembered Chiaro crying at the thought of losing him. If for no other reason…. "Yes."

The demons fell completely silent for the first time in Cesare's life. Even in Chiaro's closest embrace, he had still been able to hear them at a distance. The silence was unnerving. Cesare couldn't help looking up. When he did, the light surrounded him, so bright it blinded him. Instinctively, Cesare looked around for Chiaro, but he was nowhere to be found. He closed his eyes, but he could still feel the light growing stronger until it felt almost solid. Then it began to penetrate him with a power greater than the demons had ever been. Cesare gasped. He couldn't do this. "Stop!" he cried. "Please!" He got to his feet before he even knew what he was doing, terrified beyond all reason, and ran out of the church, the returning demons mocking him as he fled.