Chapter 21: One Mercy

A/N: I own Sebastian and Marco. And they're really cute, as a random comment.

A/N 2: I love this conversation between Volpe and Chiaro. Chiaro's basically like, "Man, you are seriously messed up." Actually, I kind of like their spats in general. They're fun to write, since those two are such polar opposites.

Chiaro really did not like standing so close to Volpe as Cesare talked with his father. He thought it would probably be inappropriate to keep his hand on his sword hilt, and he doubted Volpe would try to kill him in front of the pope, but he couldn't help being nervous. He tried to listen, wondering if it really mattered. Would Volpe really be able to take over for Cesare? What would be his excuse for wearing a mask? Chiaro looked sidelong at Volpe, who ignored him. He sighed. When did Cesare plan on pulling this off? Tonight? Tomorrow? How long could they afford to wait? How soon could they afford to disappear? Would Italy collapse like a house of cards if Cesare pulled out? But no, Italy wasn't Chiaro's concern. Cesare was Chiaro's concern. Italy would manage.

After the update, Cesare requested a private audience with his father and they went into a side room. Volpe stood at attention and Chiaro paused, then edged away from him. Chiaro wasn't sure Cesare would go through with his plans if Chiaro was killed, and he knew Volpe didn't think he would. The man was probably desperate.

"Do you love him?"

Chiaro turned, wondering if Volpe had actually asked the question or if he'd imagined it. "Yes," he said. "Do you?"

After a long pause, Volpe said, "I don't know. I wonder if I actually know him." He paused. "I wanted to serve him and watch him soar, my beautiful fallen angel. But your love has tied him down. You hold him to this earth."

"But he wants me to." Chiaro looked at Volpe. "He never asked for this, you know."

"So you would deny him all of his ambitions?"

"He's denying himself. Volpe, if he wants to live as a human—if that is the true desire of his heart—shouldn't he be allowed to? If you care about him at all, can't you let him be happy? Or would you sacrifice him to your own ambition the way his father did?"

Volpe turned to him, glaring daggers, and in retrospect Chiaro thought he probably shouldn't have gone quite that far. But it couldn't be helped now. And besides, it was true. "I have watched over him since he was a child," Volpe hissed. "In many ways, I am his father."

Chiaro didn't even know how to respond to that, especially since Volpe had tried to seduce Cesare. He sometimes wondered if Volpe was even more messed up than his master. At least Cesare wanted to be human. "Aren't fathers supposed to seek the wellbeing of their children?" he asked quietly, avoiding the glances they were getting. "I'd hardly say being possessed by demons is in his best interest."

Volpe said nothing but stood at attention again until Cesare came out of the room, his face giving no hint as to what had passed, although the pope looked worried. Cesare looked their direction and they followed. Chiaro couldn't help a sigh of relief. Cesare didn't speak until they were back at their quarters, at which point he sent Volpe away and had Chiaro help him undo his robe. "I would appreciate it," Cesare said, "if you didn't try to antagonize him when he's already out for your blood."

"Huh?"

"What did you say that made him so upset?"

Chiaro blinked. Cesare had apparently read a great deal from Volpe's body language that hadn't seemed at all unusual to Chiaro.

"Well?" Cesare asked, disrobing and changing into more casual wear.

"I accused him of wanting to sacrifice you to his ambition like your father did."

Cesare pulled a shirt over his head and stared. "Well, I'm sure he took that well."

"It's true."

Cesare shook his head. "Do you have a death wish or something?" He pulled his laces together. "Come on. I want to go for a walk around Rome."

"Oh. All right." He followed Cesare into the streets. "So, what were you talking to your father about?"

"I was telling him of my plans to disappear and asking him to cooperate. He said he would, assuming Volpe cooperates. Where would you like to go, Chiaro? This might be the last time we can walk freely in Rome for quite a while."

"Maybe my father's grave?"

"All right." They bought lunch and took it to the hill where they'd buried Chiaro's father so long ago. There were still wildflowers growing over the grave and under the cross Chiaro had planted, and he smiled to see them.

"Wonder if he's happy," Chiaro said, sitting on the ground nearby. "Do you think the dead watch over the living?"

Cesare shrugged, sitting beside him.

"Hey, if we're disappearing, I don't need to be an assassin anymore, right?"

"Never again. We may, of course, need to defend ourselves, but…." He smiled. "I will never make you kill again. I promise."

Chiaro smiled. "Wonder if he's disappointed."

Cesare looked over at him. "I suppose this also means I'm not your king anymore," he said with a bit of a smile.

"You'll always be my king."

Cesare shook his head a little. "I want to be your friend," he said. "Like you're mine. After the demons are gone, I'll truly be able to."

"But…." Why did he keep bringing this up?

"Can't you belong to me as my friend, Chiaro?" Cesare asked. "And I belong to you as yours?"

Chiaro looked away, feeling his face grow warm. "Um… maybe."

"After all, once I'm free of the demons, I'll have much more to spare. I'll finally be able to love you like you deserve."

"You already love me more than I deserve," Chiaro said, his face hot.

Cesare smiled at him and drew him into a tight hug. "Please," he said. "I want us to be friends."

Chiaro hugged him back, tightly, thinking about it. "Basically, the only thing you want me to change is that I should tell you when I want something?"

"Yes, basically."

"Okay," Chiaro said, letting go with a smile. "Then I want to have a garden at our new house."

Cesare gave a laugh. "A garden?"

"Yes. A garden."

Cesare laughed again. "You just made that up, didn't you?"

"No, I've always wanted one. But you can't really have a garden when you're living in the Vatican and meeting with diplomats every day."

"All right, Chiaro," Cesare said with an indulgent smile. "You can have a garden."

"Thank you."

Cesare shook his head. "Anything else?"

"Mmm… did we decide what we were going to do?"

"No."

"I actually really like the idea of being a swordsmanship instructor. We both could. Maybe start a school."

"You think so?"

"Yes. And we could teach other things too… most peasants can't read, you know. The fact that I could when you met me was just because of the monks."

Cesare nodded. "Doesn't sound like a bad idea."

"Where are we going to live?" Chiaro asked.

"A small village somewhere, at least to start, I think. Unless you had something in mind? Perhaps Florence? I'm debating as to whether I should continue to send advice to my father, to keep up a correspondence with him, perhaps. He asked me to."

"I'd like to live in Florence," Chiaro said. "But are you sure there aren't too many people there who would recognize you?"

"In peasant garb?"

"Eh, point. They'd be looking for Cesare Borgia, the cardinal of the red robes." He paused. "Volpe wouldn't do more damage than you, would he?"

"I don't see how he could. He doesn't have demonic powers, you know."

"True." Chiaro opened their sack of lunch. "Here, have something to eat."

"Thank you." Cesare bit into his baguette.

"Wonder if you'll like living as a peasant."

Cesare smiled at him, playful. "I think I'll manage."

Chiaro smiled back, taking a bite of his own lunch. It looked like Cesare was starting to see a way forward.

…

They finished their lunch and headed back into the city. "Signore!" called a voice amid the others. "Signore! Signore with the long hair!"

Cesare stopped and turned, confused, but then he recognized the boy. It was the same child who he'd saved from the older bullies. "Yes?" he asked.

"Good," said the boy, panting. "I didn't know if I was ever going to see you again. Thank you again very much for helping my brother and me."

"You're welcome," Cesare said, still confused. "Are they bothering you again?"

"Well, some of the boys are learning to fight with swords, and they all have wooden swords now, so I was hoping… since I saw you fighting once… if you would teach me how to use a sword."

Cesare didn't know what to say. "You see… I'm leaving Rome quite soon. Today, perhaps."

"Oh." The boy paused. "Could you give me just one lesson before you go?"

"So you can protect your brother?"

"Yes, Signore."

Cesare smiled a little. "What do you say, Michael? Mind if we stop here for a while?"

"Not at all," Chiaro replied, smiling. He took off his short sword and tied it into its sheath, then handed it to the boy who gasped at its weight.

"Wow, they look so light when you use them," the boy said, grasping it with two hands.

"Come over here," Cesare said, motioning to a more open area. He walked the boy through stance and some of the basic strokes, then did a few thrusts and parries after tying his own sword into its sheath. To his surprise, the boy wasn't bad at all, but his strength was lacking, probably from lack of good food and nutrition.

At last, exhausted, the boy bowed and thanked Cesare. "Could I see you and your friend have a bout?" he asked. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Cesare."

The boy stared. "Not Cesare Borgia, the cardinal?"

"Yes," Cesare said. "Does that alarm you?"

"Signore, I am honored," the boy said, bowing. "I'm very sorry if I've troubled you."

"It's no trouble at all," Cesare replied. Actually, he had enjoyed that sparring lesson, remembering happier times with Marrone. "And your name is?"

"Sebastian."

"I'm pleased to meet you. This is my best friend, Michael da Corelia."

"I'm pleased to meet you," Sebastian said to Chiaro, bowing. "Do you know, you look a lot like this older boy who once gave my brother and me bread when we were really little; I think I was only eight, and he was four, and our parents had just died…."

Chiaro started. "Heh," he said. "Yeah, well…."

"Except his name was Chiaro."

Chiaro smiled a little. "Yeah, but he was a thief. So he had to disappear when I became Cesare's companion."

"Oh," Sebastian replied, looking like he understood the situation completely. He smiled brightly. "Thank you."

Chiaro shrugged. "I couldn't just leave you alone, right?"

Cesare shook his head. Apparently Chiaro hadn't only stolen bread for his father. "Well, Chi-a-ro," he said, giving his incautious friend a playful shove. "Will you be my sparring partner?"

"If you promise not to get killed."

"I ought to make you promise that," Cesare said, unsheathing. They went at it, drawing a small crowd of onlookers. Cesare always forgot just how thrilling it was to fight with Chiaro, who could actually keep up with him and bested him about half the time. There was hardly any element of excitement when he fought with anyone else. He won in record time on this occasion, though, probably because Chiaro was still recovering from being tortured, which Cesare seemed to keep forgetting. "Are you all right?" he asked, suddenly concerned.

Chiaro grinned, clutching a little at his chest. "I think I'll survive."

"That was amazing!" Sebastian said, beaming. "Do you think I could ever be that good?"

"If you get some muscles on those skinny arms," Cesare replied, looping his hand around one of them. "You have good instincts."

"Really?" Sebastian was glowing, reminding Cesare so much of his fifteen-year-old self that he felt a small ache.

The crowd dispersed and the three of them went to rest. The sun was already beginning to set. A whizzing sound made Cesare turn to look in Chiaro's direction. Chiaro's face was in shock, and he suddenly fell to his knees. "Chiaro?" Cesare asked, forgetting to use the pseudonym. Then he saw the arrow coming out of Chiaro's back. "Chiaro!" He looked in the direction of the arrow's flight to see Volpe disappearing into the dispersing crowd.

"Hey," Chiaro gasped, impossibly trying to smile while looking up at him. "S-sorry."

Cesare knelt and caught him as he fainted. The arrow was coming out his chest as well and blood was pooling around the wound on both sides. Cesare's mind seemed to have frozen. Had the arrow penetrated Chiaro's heart? "No," he whispered.

"Signore Cesare!" Someone was shaking him. "Signore Cesare?"

Numbly, Cesare turned to see Sebastian.

"Here, get him on this horse. I know a safe place where we can call a doctor."

Cesare nodded and lifted Chiaro onto the horse that seemed to have come from nowhere, and somehow registered that Chiaro was still breathing, although shallowly. "Don't die," Cesare begged. "Please don't die." The demons began to swirl around him, making it hard to think straight. "Don't leave me, not now, please."

"Come on," Sebastian said, pulling on him. Before Cesare knew what was happening, they were entering a small chapel where several people rose and came toward them. Cesare pulled out his sword without any clear reason why. The demons screamed at him to attack, to kill…. "No," Sebastian's small voice said beside him. "These people are our friends."

Cesare looked down at the small, earnest face, then watched an old woman bend over Chiaro, breaking the head off the arrow and removing it, unleashing a torrent of blood as she did so, which she pressed at with cloths to stop the bleeding. Cesare felt himself shaking.

Come to us. The whispers were seductive and hard to ignore.

No, Cesare thought.

Come to us. We will save him and give him back to you. We will make you both immortal. You will never need to worry about losing him again.

Cesare closed his eyes, trying fruitlessly to ignore the visions they were sending him. Chiaro… wouldn't like that. He knew from experience what happened when one was healed by demons. And I couldn't… love him if you took me.

We can make him like it.

Cesare opened his eyes and looked at Chiaro dying before his eyes. He blinked back tears. "No," he whispered. He did not want Chiaro to become his demon rather than his angel. Either Chiaro would hate it or nothing of Chiaro would remain. The demons pressed harder around him. "No," Cesare whispered again. He suddenly became aware of small fingers closing around his hand and looked down to see Sebastian.

"It's okay," Sebastian said. "God lives here. He'll take care of Chiaro."

"God?" Cesare stood, dazed, sword still unsheathed, only Sebastian's small hand in his keeping him from losing his mind. "God…." It was almost a prayer.

"Sebastian?" said a child's voice. "Isn't this the man who saved us before?"

"Yes, Marco," Sebastian replied, turning to a small boy.

"Is he okay?"

"I think he's scared."

After what seemed like forever, the old woman looked up. "The arrow did not pierce his heart, but it did go through his lung," she said. "Only a miracle can save him, but I will do what I can."

"A miracle," Cesare repeated. He looked at the crucifix on the wall. It seemed that God had been willing to heal him yesterday. Was it possible he would be willing to heal Chiaro instead? Dropping his sword on the ground, he stepped toward the cross. "Whatever happens to me," he said softly, "please save him. He doesn't deserve to die." Even more, Cesare couldn't let the demons heal him.

"Signore Cesare?" Sebastian's voice behind him was uncertain.

"Can you take everyone out of here for a few minutes?" Cesare asked him.

"Um, sure." The group of people quietly dwindled until even the medicine woman left.

Cesare gathered Chiaro into his arms. "Please, save him," he begged, looking at the crucifix. "Please, I'm begging you, I will do anything. Save him."

The room suddenly filled with light and the demons fell silent. The bright figure appeared again and stood before him. Cesare looked away—it was too bright to look at. "Anything?" the figure asked. "You were going to ask for quite a different mercy yesterday evening."

"Yes, but—"

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

"Yes, but save Chiaro instead, please."

"Why do you think you are limited to only one mercy?"

"Because I am evil."

"Indeed?"

"I… I was never yours. But Chiaro, at least… Chiaro is good, so please…."

"You refused to be mine. I've chased you for years. I even sent you two angels. Did you think it was an accident that the woman your father chose to care for you could send away the demons? Or that the assassin sent to kill you could do the same, and was of a disposition to care for you rather than destroy you?"

Cesare closed his eyes. "We don't have time to talk about this!"

"Time is immaterial," the voice replied. "As far as you are concerned, time has stopped until this conversation is over."

"What do you want from me?" Cesare asked.

"The truth. Why do you want to save Chiaro?"

"Because I love him."

"You want me to give him back to you?"

Cesare paused. "Not unless… you're also going to heal me."

"He wants to stay with you regardless."

"I know he does. But if I am still possessed by demons, I would destroy him, and I don't want to. He… he loves me so much that he won't think of himself anymore."

"So, if you are limited to one mercy, you want me to heal Chiaro and give him to someone else?"

Cesare swallowed. "Yes… and if you would… please kill me. Because otherwise, he'll come back to me, and if he doesn't, I'll become a demon and destroy everything."

"And if I kill you now, where do you want to go?"

Cesare blinked. "I have a choice?"

"You can always ask."

"If I went to heaven, I would see Chiaro again, wouldn't I?"

"Is that all you care about?"

"Well, there are no demons in heaven either."

"True. Although I think perhaps we ought to get to know each other a bit better before I take you on as a permanent resident."

"I don't mind starting off in purgatory," Cesare said, feeling a stab of disappointment. Was God just toying with him? Of course he had no intention of sending Cesare to heaven.

The voice laughed. "So quick to lean on your own understanding. I see I'm not finished with you yet."

"Meaning?"

"Just relax. I'll take care of you." He sounded like Chiaro, and Cesare couldn't help looking up, though it hurt his eyes and blew his mind. The figure was enormous and bright, and had wings of light. It was smiling. And for a second, Cesare almost believed everything was going to be all right. He closed his eyes and bowed his head again.

"You need to let go of Chiaro."

Cesare hesitated and briefly pulled Chiaro close and kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry," he whispered. At least Chiaro had already somewhat accepted the possibility that Cesare might die. "Hopefully, I can see you again. I love you. Goodbye." Reluctantly, he lowered his friend to the ground, barely able to see him anymore through his tears. He looked up again. "You'll… make sure whoever you send him to… will be good to him, right? He wants a master… you'll give him a good one, right? Someone who will love him, and protect him, and take care of him?"

"Of course," the figure said. "But you need to let go."

Cesare nodded and let go, backing away a little. Then the light surrounded him again, growing stronger and brighter and beginning to penetrate him, just like before. "What?" Cesare gasped. "Him! Not me, him! You said—Please, I'm begging you!"

The shining figure, who was beginning to walk away, turned, and for a moment Cesare sensed that it was smiling. "Cesare Borgia," it said, "For a cardinal, you have a lot to learn about God. But I will make this easier on you." Cesare's vision suddenly faded and went black. The last thing he was aware of was light, inside and out of him, and deep, profound despair. So this was his punishment. He wasn't even able to save the one person he truly loved.

A/N 2: *Hides* Please don't kill me!