Gah! Forgive this unworthy writer! For some odd reason, this chapter was a major pain to write. What makes it really weird is that I usually love tormenting my favorite characters until they snap. I must have tried writing this chapter at least six or seven times. *headdesk* What makes it even worse is that I graduate in 2 weeks, so I'm busy keeping my grades up so I don't get my college acceptance revoked and doing all of the senior-related activities seniors are supposed to participate in. So, yeah. It's been a week. It's been a year, actually. I'm ready to graduate.
Anywho, hope you enjoy this bit of fail. It's not quite as dark as I had wanted, but I think it'll be okay...
Disclaimer: ...Since no one has offered it to me, and I am relying on scholarships in order to pay my way through college, I'm pretty sure I'm not the genius behind Hetalia.
Every inch of Romanus hurt—from the scraps and cuts on his feet to the prominent curl of his hair. Even as a street rat, he had never hurt so much. His hands felt sticky with crimson liquid he knew was his own. Every day, Rome would come and demand things from him—always the same questions, always met with the same answers, always followed by some painful form of punishment.
"What are you, boy?" Rome would demand, his eyes full of the same anti-Christian insanity of his ruler.
"I am a Christian!" Romanus would answer, sometimes in a whisper and others in a wild shout. "I am a Christian, and will always be Christian!"
Then the pain would come.
In the days that followed Romanus' removal from the household, the remaining brothers were a wretched sight. Felicianus acted like a soulless corpse, showing no interest in anything and staring blankly into space. He shied from Rome, and took to spending his nights curled up with his infant brother, sobbing silently into the younger boy's hair. The child couldn't be persuaded to eat, leading Zosime and Auait to begin force-feeding him.
"This can't go on," Auait muttered as she set aside the half-eaten tray of food. "The boy is going to eat as little as possible until he starves himself to death."
"Rome is irrational, Auait, you know this." Zosime gently stroked Felicianus' hair as she spoke, trying to offer the child some form of comfort. "He won't return Romanus until he's convinced the boy has changed his ways."
Both women sat in silence, wondering what exactly Rome was putting the eldest brother through, but shivering in horrified fury at the very plausible scenarios. Neither had ever felt much love for Rome (who could possibly love the man who conquered their lands, when through it all the only lights in their lives were the sons that would soon replace them?) and they both knew just how cruel their lord and master could be.
Taking another look at the fitfully sleeping child, Auait made up her mind. "Zosime, you know what we must do."
Romanus didn't know what happened to the small cross he had carried so lovingly. He prayed either Felicianus or Gratianus had it. Someone who knew its true worth and treated it accordingly. His back was raw and sore and exposed to the chilly dampness of his cell, and his silent prayers were the only thing that sustained him. Even as his body weakened from lack of food and sunlight, Romanus refused to let go of his faith. It was the last part of his parents he had, and to give it up meant to destroy himself.
"What are you?"
"I am Christian."
The sting of the whip on his flesh and the rapid prayers in his mind were the only things he was conscious of.
They included Persia in the ritual.
Honestly, it was probably a stupid move that would result in more pain for everyone involved, but Persia was the only other woman who knew of the Deep Magicks, and they needed her to complete the Chalice. Germania and Scandinavia had accepted the mothers' requests and China had agreed to take the final place in the Blade. Egypt had spent the dark hours of night tracing the runes on to the chamber floor, lines drawn from ashes infused with the Deep Magicks.
Now, it was the hour of truth. Felicianus was asleep in the middle of the space created by the combined Chalice and Blade. The eyes of the participants never met as the ritual began, and the light began to come from the ashen runes.
Romanus didn't know how long he had been locked away. He was forgetting things now. What was sunlight? What was warmth? The only things he knew for certain were the darkness and the cold and the pain. Always pain. He could scarcely recall life without the pain. The only thing that kept him sane was the knowledge that his little brothers were still out there, out in sunlight and warmth. If keeping them there meant he would stay in the darkness and cold with nothing but pain for company, he could accept his fate.
"What are you?"
"I am Christian."
He expected pain. But now, there was no pain. Gentle hands touched his wounded flesh and he felt warmth and saw light. Delicate hands broke the chains that had him bound. Tender arms wrapped around him and held him close. An angelic voice whispered kind and loving words to him. Romanus opened his eyes to see a golden, beautiful face. It couldn't be possible, he had to be hallucinating.
"Rest now, Little One, for the LORD is with you, and shall always be with you."
Romanus slept.
Germania and Scandinavia left as soon as the ritual ended, but China stayed. China was young still, hardly a man but the only one that would come to them so quickly. He held Gratianus and played games with the toddler, occasionally sneaking glances to the bed where Felicianus slept. The women took turns watching the child, ensuring he not wake for the three required days. It was Persia's turn.
"I hear this was your first ritual."
China nodded.
"Speak, boy. I am not allowed to take my eyes off of the brat and so cannot see you nod."
"Shi de, Lady Persia. This was my first ritual."
"Did Asia teach you the Deep Magicks?"
"Mǔqīn made sure I knew about them. She taught me all she knew."
"I doubt that. Continents revealed all of their secrets to no one. She taught you all you needed to know, that is all."
"Do you think the ritual will help him?"
Persia said nothing for a moment, sitting up straight as she watched Felicianus. Wringing out the washcloth and placing it on the child's head, she answered softly.
"Only time shall tell."
When Rome came again, he collapsed against the wall in shock. Instead of finding the boy chained and bleeding, Rome saw his eldest grandson lying on a clean cloth in the middle of the filth, his wounds beginning to heal. A soft glow surrounded the child, and for the first time in his existence, Rome felt himself in the presence of something greater than himself. Horrified at what he had done, the empire buried his face in his hands and begged for forgiveness.
Conflicted, not trusting himself to touch the boy and yet not trusting anyone else to, Rome picked up the unconscious boy with all the gentleness of a parent. The wounds would scar…mark the boy permanently. So young and yet so horribly marked…by his own blood, no less! For the first time in his life, Rome truly felt like a monster.
Arriving at the elaborate suite he stayed during times of war, Rome set Romanus down the bed and gently stroked the child's hair.
"Tantopere me paenitet, Romanus." (I am so sorry, Romanus.)
The ritual had been a success. When Felicianus woke up, he remembered nothing of his previous life. His young mind was a blank slate, no memories of his past. The memories were far from gone, of course, but they were securely looked away with chains of runes and ancient spells.
"You performed the Deep Magicks without consulting me?"
Zosime sighed. "Yes, Rome. We had no other choice; the boy was determined to starve himself to death despite our best efforts and we knew trying to convince you to restore Romanus to the household would be impossible—because you weren't in a proper state of mind—so we did what the circumstances demanded."
Rome deflated at Greece's sharp rebuke of his prior actions, knowing very well just how badly he had screwed up. "So, he remembers nothing?"
Another sigh, accompanied by a shake of her head. "No. He doesn't remember his brothers, or his parents. We sealed his memories away with his birth name, so he is to be called Feliciano at all times. Or better yet, call him by his nation name: Italia Veneziano."
So, yeah...sorry for the massive fail. The ancients are going to have a pretty big role for the next chapter. I'm pretty excited about. :D
Also, the ritual mentioned in this chapter is, to my knowledge, completely my own invention. The Chalice mentioned is the ancient symbol of womanhood just as the Blade is the ancient symbol of manhood. Both are real symbols, and I've probably just bastardized their actual purpose. *hangs head* Forgive me. I fail on a regular basis.
Oh, Audience Poll! I'm debating whether or not to bring in a personification of Vatican City. Would anyone like to see Vatican City in future chapters? Let me know in a review!
Once again, sorry for the fail. I'll do better next time! *strikes dramatic hero pose*