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Chapter Text

Springtime in Orsomarso was a pastoral. An idealized, overexaggerated look upon the life there. Spring breathed life into the town. The sun was up later into the evening and up early in the morning. Rain kept the budding fruit trees bearing and the flowers blooming. The air was fragrant with new promises, and that is what (y/n) loved about it. 

In the early mornings, before quiet prayer, before breakfast and her other daily rituals, she made it a habit to spend time gazing from her window. The mountain air was crisp and welcoming, as were the birds who greeted her each day. She would look out among the town, seeing the shops and cafes begin to open, people on their way to work or just going about their lives. 

The soft tolling of the chapel bell echoing through the streets would remind her of her place in this town - remind her the day was beginning. 

A year ago, she had come to Saint Magdalene's convent from Salerno as a postulant. Now, she was a novitiate, a nun-in-training, spending her days studying prayer, reciting the word of God, and doing chores the other Sisters of higher standing didn't want to do. 

Her life at this point had become a routine - a bit mundane, lacking in substance. 

Substance. 

This shouldn't matter to a girl like her. She had willingly given herself and her possessions up to serve God and the other heavenly hosts. And yet, she had found herself - most recently - longing. 

Longing for what? She didn't know. 

And so, she kept her feelings, her thoughts and confusions buried deep inside.

She frequently found herself running late, always by mistake but late none the less. She knew it frustrated her Reverend Mother, interrupting the others deep in prayer, missing the beginning of morning praise, but (y/n) never regret spending her mornings leaning out of her window. There was always time to repent later. 

Entering the chapel, she passed by a Sister lighting prayer candles and stopped at a pew near the back. She took a knee and blessed herself with the sign of the cross as she entered the pew and took out her rosary. 

Folding her hands with beads between her fingers, she cast her gaze downwards and her lips moved in quiet recitation. She had prayed these words a thousand times, found comfort, devotion, and faith within them. 

She wondered now if she should feel more deeply than she did. Something about her prayers didn't come as naturally as they used to. Her conversations with God felt one-sided, felt expected. 

Above the altar, below the circular window that let the light of day pour in pleasantly, watching over His flock, was a statue of Jesus on the cross. 

(Y/n) feared to look at it. His sorrowful expression made her feel like she wanted to run from the chapel. The guilt that ate her from the inside out was too much to bare when it came to facing her Savior. 

She thought about how too many people had died in the name of Christ, how so many, including herself had lied in His name. She wanted to throw herself at the gates of the convent and cry for someone to let her out.

Reverend Mother had told her it is only natural for our faith to waiver, "a test from God," she had said. And (y/n) just smiled and nodded.

That's all it was - a test. 

And though she studied and worked hard, she felt like she was failing. 

The tolling of the chapel bell echoed out again, signaling the end of morning prayer. Praise had been given, fasts had been broken, and the day was beginning. 

During breakfast, (y/n) didn't do much besides play with the food on her plate. She didn't feel hungry, there was too much on her mind, and sitting and eating wasn't the best distraction.

Conversation with others didn't strike her fancy either. 

She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and turned to see her Reverend Mother. "Sister, (y/n)," she gifted her with a kind smile, "come see me once you're done?" 

"Si, Madre." 

Reverend Mother nodded and left the mess hall, (y/n)s gaze still on her as she left. Not feeling like wasting anymore time by staring at her plate, she got up.

Knocking quietly on the Reverend Mother's office door she invited her to enter.

"Come stai?" She asked, "you were late again this morning." 

"Perdonami, Madre..." (y/n) knelt before her and lowered her head, asking for forgiveness. 

"tutto è perdonato, figlia." Reverend Mother took her hand. "Sit, won't you?" 

(Y/n) took a seat at her desk, waiting to be punished with more chores or incessant praying to be completely forgiven in the eyes of the Lord. 

"Child," Mother began, "you seem more troubled these days than you have in past. Your faith, do you still struggle?"

"Si, Madre," (y/n) kept her head bowed, "I don't know what is wrong with me..." 

Reverend Mother smiled and chuckled quietly. "You are young. You are learning. Perhaps, our faith cannot always be so strong, si?" 

"I suppose."

"(Y/n)," she said, getting her eyes to shift upwards, "I have a remedy for you, and please, I'd like you to take it."

The Reverend Mother stood and went to a window, opening it up, letting in the breeze and birdsong. "I'd like you to spend a day outside of the convent. Go into town, enjoy yourself, clear your head, do some thinking." 

Something deep, something unknowing stirred within (y/n) in that moment. 

"Perhaps a day of fresh air will do more for your spirit than praying ever could. Go make the most of tomorrow," Reverend Mother shot her a knowing glance, "just be back before sunset." 

"Are you so sure, Mother?" (y/n) asked hesitantly. She knew herself this is just what she needed - knew the convent grew heavy on her shoulders, but it had also become a familiar friend. And she had become quite accustomed to her daily life; familiarity and routine kept her anxieties at bay. 

"Si, Sorella," Reverend Mother nodded, absolute certainty in her voice. "Enjoy the sun beyond our walls. You seem so sure you are ready to live the way we do here, but I see the doubt in your heart."

(Y/n) shook her head, the deep feeling of guilt building in her stomach. "N-no, Reverend Mother! I do think I'm ready..." 

"You seem to forget I was a girl just like you once." Mother chuckled. "You don't fool me, Sorella, and I won't take no for an answer. Go spread with word of God with your kindness."

"Yes, Mother." (y/n) bowed her head and kissed the Reverend Mothers hand before she was excused. 

Even after news as grand as this, her mundane life waited for her back in the halls of the convent. The garden still needed tending to, the floors needed sweeping, the infirmary needed extra help, the less fortunate that waited beyond the gates still deserved the food they could spare. 

And yet, with every task her mind wandered. Each movement was a question. 

Pulling weeds - what if I'm loosing my faith? 

Sweeping dust into the pan - What if I find excitement out in the world?

Wrapping bandages and redressing wounds - Why am I so scared?

Passing out bread and garden vegetables through the iron gates - What if... What if I never want to return?...

And still, midday prayer and dinner preparations would still be waiting after everything that came before. 

When the sun set - the darkness as heavy as the thoughts on her mind - she couldn't be more ready for sleep. 

And, as she finally made her way back to her small quarters that night, as she whispered her final prayers, and folded herself into her bed, that same deep and unknowing feeling unfurled in her chest. 

Something was calling out to her and her heart was aching to answer back. 

Chapter Text

Dawn broke over the convent, the soft golden rays of sun peaking over the mountainside to say good morning and to stir (y/n) from her restless night. 

She stretched and sat up in bed, clutching her blanket against her chest as she let the warmth of the sun wash over her. It was warm enough during the days now where she never had to light a fire in the small stove of her room, but it was still chilly enough in the mornings to make her want to stay under the covers until the afternoon. 

Today she was leaving. Free of her chores around the convent, free of mandatory prayer, and unwanted conversation. She would be as free as the birds she watched every morning - and she would be just as wary.

Just enough to know to come back to her nest before sunset. 

Unlike her normal routine, she didn't begin her day by gazing longingly out of her quarter windows, because today she would be out there. 

Her hands lingered along her blankets a little longer than they should have as she made her bed - almost as if she wasn't quite ready to leave, not ready to let go. 

She rinsed her face with the cold water that sat in a basin near the door, the cold water making her shiver. She threw on her simple rough-spun cotton tunic, the color off-white. While a fully professed Sister would wear a leather cincture, (y/n) tied her knotted rope around her waist. Her scapular draped over her shoulders, falling just below her knees and she tidied her veil and fixed her hair that she let fall from it. 

She wore no jewelry, no wedlock ring signifying her marriage to Christ - but donned a simple cross that hung from her rope belt.

A reminder of her vows. A reminder of the path she was on. Even as something inside of her whispered for her to turn away. 

Her fingers brushed over the cross as she smoothed out her habit. She gripped it a moment before kneeling at her bedside. Blessing herself she began quietly: 

"Lord, guide me in your righteous light. Let my feet not stray from the path you have set before me. Keep me steadfast in my faith, and bless my journey out of the convent today. Amen." 

Her words felt thinner than usual, less like armor and more like the layers of cotton she already wore. But, she clung to them anyway. 

The halls of the convent were just as quiet as she knew them to be this part of the morning. Right about now, she would be running late for morning prayer. Her steps were steady, but each were weighty with each step bringing her further from the familiar. 

The Reverend Mother met her at the gate, she had said enough morning prayers for a lifetime, surly there was room for her to skip just one. She acknowledge her with her same knowing look - the one that saw right through flesh and straight into the soul.

"You recall my words, Sorella?" She asked.

(Y/n) nodded. "Spread the word of God with my kindness. Be patient with myself."

"And?"

"Be back before sunset." 

The Reverend Mother smiled and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder before turning to unlock the gate. 

(Y/n) hesitated in the threshold, but before she could think anymore about it she stepped forward and the gate was locked behind her. 

The sun was the same star she saw every morning in her quarters, It was no different out here beyond her walls - but instead of greeting her with only a simple Buongiorno! it welcomed her to the world. 

The town was alive, and not in a subtle quiet way like the convent always was - but loud and colorful, full of that promise she felt the wind always carried. 

Town vendors yelled over one another as they haggled with customers over fresh produce. The laughter and sing-song voices of children swelled in the air as they ran up and down the street corridors. The clatter of hooves and creaky wooden carts moving over cobblestone drowned out the crying of a baby near by. 

It was everything and it was beautiful. 

No one paid her much attention, though she felt like she stuck out in her unorthodox way of dressing compared to the townsfolk. She just held herself gently and moved forward at an easy and calm pace. She had the whole day ahead of her, and she intended on savoring it. 

Because, for the first time in a long time, she wondered if she had been missing something. 

(Y/n) continued to take everything in, enjoying her peaceful stroll, interacting with people through small smiles and quiet ciaos. 

The farmers market took her breath away when she finally made her way into the town square. So many different vendors, fruits and vegetables, art, bakery goods, flowers, and truly anything she could have dreamt of.

A little old woman at a cart caught her eye. She struggled to place her fruits in the center of her display, continuously knocking down and bruising others. (y/n) didn't think. She just moved. 

"Here, Nonna." She said quietly, placing some fallen apricots and clementines back on the display and reaching to take some fruit from her hands. 

The woman blinked up at her in surprise but soon gave her a most pleasant smile. "Ah, che cara ragazza! Grazi." 

(Y/n) returned the smile. "It's no trouble."

She helped her place a few more fruits into the display and the woman grabbed her hands the way someone does when they don't know how to thank you. "Dio ti benedica, Sorella." 

The simple and kind words made (y/n) stiffen.

Oh. She hadn't been thinking about church, or God, or Jesus, the saints and angels. She had been so caught up in the world around her. 

"May He bless you too, Nonna." She forced a smile upon the kind woman before they parted ways and she began making her way through the market again. 

Trying to steady herself, (y/n) forced herself to be more mindful of her thoughts. Her kindness was of God, was it not? That made her feel a little better. 

She spent some time looking over a painters booth, admiring the landscape work of where they all called home. 

Some other vendors called to her, asking if she wanted their goods, and she simply turned to them with a kind wave and polite "no". 

She had plums and maybe a sandwich on her mind for lunch as she turned back to her path and collided with someone. 

The impact stole her breath for a moment, making her stumble back against the uneven cobblestone. 

A strong hand caught her wrist and pulled her back on steady feet. 

"Ah! Dio empio - careful, Sorella! do you usually throw yourself at unsuspecting men of the cloth?" 

The voice was smooth and deep, rich with amusement. 

(Y/n) fumbled over words, her breath hitching as she looked at the man who had caught her. 

Dark, knowing eyes. A playful smirk. A man dressed in black, his tab collar tight against his throat. 

A priest. 

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks immediately as she took a step back. "Oh, Father, forgive me! I- I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, I-"

"There's no need to apologize, Sorella." He grinned. "Though, I must say... If you were trying to sweep me off of my feet, you may need to try harder next time."

(Y/n) just stared at him, blinking, heat creeping up her neck. A slightly suggestive joke? From a priest?

She had to look anywhere but at him. She found her gaze meeting the ground which is then when she saw the mess she had made. 

A bag, parcels, a basket filled with herbs and other wrapped goods. All laying in the ground. 

"Oh!" She dropped to her knees immediately, starting to gather things back into the basket. "I'm so sorry, Father, let me help you with all of this."

He crouched down with her. Too close. 

Desperately trying to avoid his eye contact she hurried whilst putting his things away.

"Are you this much trouble in your convent, Sister?" He asked amused, as if watching her flustered was all too entertaining. 

She shook her head quickly. "N-no, not usually."

She sounded so fragile.

Thinking of anything she could switch the conversation to, she asked, "are you heading back to your parish with all of this?"

"Ah, si, to the abbey just beyond town." He responded.

"Oh, Saint Mark's?" (y/n) smiled, of course this man was trustworthy. 

The priest laughed lightly and shrugged. "Well... No. A little further up the mountain. I don't believe we are a fully recognized parish yet."

(Y/n)s brow furrowed as she tried to recall all of the churches in the area, "oh..." 

No matter, it wasn't uncommon for someone like her to not know of all of the parishes in the entire province. 

"I, um, I didn't catch your name." She said shyly, directly handing him a small personal bible that had scattered among everything else. 

His hands grasped hers and their eyes met again. "Emeritus. Father Emeritus." He grinned. 

She hadn't ever heard of a Father Emeritus. 

"And what if I may ask, dear saint, is your name?" 

She hesitated. It was such a simple question, there was nothing malicious about it. What was so weird, or wrong about a priest asking for a nuns name?

But the way he asked her, it was a question laced with teasing and a playfulness she had not known. 

She exhaled softly, forcing herself to look into his eyes. "(y/n)."

Her name hung in the air between them - in the silence it sat a little too long. 

"(Y/n)." Father Emeritus repeated as if trying to savor the taste of her name on his lips. "Un nome adorabile." 

Her stomach fluttered. Why was this making her feel so strange? 

She moved her hand to her cheek, feeling the same heat from before. "Thank you, Father..."

He gave her a gracious nod and soon they were both back on their feet. "Well, grazi, Sorella for your help." 

"Of course." (y/n) said, taking another pause while she looked over everything he held. "You do seem to have your hands full, Father. Would you like some help taking it back to the abbey?" 

Father Emeritus gave her a once over before narrowing his eyes in playful way, "you would do that?"

His lips curled into a smile, warm and gentle, disarming - putting (y/n) at ease. "My... You are an angel sent right from heaven aren't you?" 

(Y/n)s hands tightened around the parcel she held, her breath catching just a moment in her throat.

It was only a compliment. Just a priest speaking kindly, and there was nothing wrong with that. 

And yet, her cheeks still burned with the creeping blush. 

"It's no trouble, really," she assured him, "besides I was only wandering around town today. I don't have an agenda."

"No?" Father Emeritus mused, keeping his smile and adjusting the basket against his arm. "Well, in that case, it would be terribly rude of me to refuse such kindness." 

He laid out his free arm to motion her forward. 

The gesture was simple and inviting - a holy man leading her forward toward a house of God.

(Y/n) looked forward to telling her Reverend Mother that she had spent the day with a kind priest, and that - for the most part - he put her mind at ease. 

The sounds of the town began to soften behind them as they made their way through street corridors and then onto the dirt path covered by looming trees. She knew this to be the way to Saint Mark's, but they would be traveling deeper into the trees and further along the path. 

The day was still young, so much was still left unwritten, and the silence between her and Father Emeritus made her question what was to come. 

His voice broke between them, cutting the silence.

"I notice the color of your habit, and your finger, I see no ring?"

"Oh, ah, si. I am still a novitiate." (y/n) said softly, feeling a little embarrassed. 

Father Emeritus hummed, "ah, you have not taken your vows yet?"

"No. I'm still finding my place among the convent," She let her gaze fall to her feet, "b-but I study the word of God closely, and my prayer is resolute."

He chuckled deeply. "Oh, I have no doubt, Sorella. You seem most steadfast and patient in your journey." 

(Y/n) let herself laugh quietly with him, "well, I don't know if the Reverend Mother would agree with that." 

Maybe she shouldn't be leading the conversation in this direction, but talking with him was so easy and she didn't feel any judgement. 

"No?" 

She smiled, tilting her head as she tried to think of the right thing to say. "I... Overthink? I question too much... I think that is not very patient of me." 

Father Emeritus hummed again, trying to think of the right thing to say himself. "I think careful thought plays no part in impatience, Sorella."

His voice was low and understanding. 

"Some might think your questions and thought wise of you." 

(Y/n) sighed softly, the tension in her shoulders easing. That was comforting. Perhaps more than it should have been, but his tone was so sure. 

"Thank you." She smiled shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before clutching tightly back onto the parcel. 

The path before them began to narrow, leading them deeper into the countryside. The sunlight filtered through the canopy above, painting their path in patches in its golden light. The scent of cypris and the new leaves and blooming flowers of deciduous trees lingered in the air, warm and crisp. 

A brook to the side of the road splashed over mossy boulders and ran quick from the spring runoff.

A host of sparrows sat near a stilled shallow pool, bathing and sipping from the water. Singing to one another and hopping between the smoothed stones. 

(Y/n) watched them for a moment, her steps slowing. 

There was so much life, so much little moments of joy in the world around her, and she was a part of it all. 

She smiled to herself, her grip on the parcel loosening - feeling more comfortable by the second. 

Father Emeritus watched her and she didn't notice. 

She didn't see the way his expression darkened with something deep inside of him as she watched the little birds - the way her gentle nature and genuine awe of the world around her made him feel something. 

Something he had no holy words for. 

It wasn't just her innocence that undid him - no, not only that...

But, the purity of her heart. The way she opened her arms to the world, expecting nothing in return. 

The way she didn't hesitate to help him with his things, though he was a complete stranger. 

The way-

A quiet gasp from (y/n) brought him back from his thoughts. 

Watching her still, she set the parcel down in the grass and hopped off of the path, sliding against the muddy spring ground and trotting over towards a fence near the brook. 

"Sister! Where are you going?" He called.

She didn't answer. 

He set his own things down and followed her. 

Tangled in a cluster of old, rusted wire was a small sparrow. It's wings fluttered wildly and it's tiny body heaved in panic, it's little heart racing beneath it's soft breast. 

"Poverina..." (y/n) cooed as she took the bird into her hands. Her gentle touch securing it's wings against the warmth of her skin as she moved to remove its leg from where it was trapped. 

"Look," she held it out gently towards Father Emeritus. 

Her voice was so soft.

The way she gently cupped her hands around it's trembling form. The way she spoke to it like it was a dear friend. It was too much. 

This woman. This girl, she was too much. 

Too much softness, too much kindness. 

So untouched by the world, unspoiled by realities, unmarked by sin.

It made the Father's heart ache in the most unholiest of ways. 

The bird turned it's head, still shaking it blinked wildly between the two of them. (y/n) looked over its leg, only its scaly skin scraped from rubbing against the wire.

"Oh, you should be just fine." She said quietly and turned to open her hands towards the path and way from the fence. "Arrivederci, amico!" 

The sparrow flew off. 

(Y/n) stood and brushed off her habit, some mud on the bottom from where she had knelt. 

"Do you save helpless animals often, Sorella?" Father Emeritus smirked, admiring the way she didn't even care to complain about getting dirty. 

"No, Father." She giggled. 

A giggle? Was that an alright way to speak with a priest?

"Though," she began, slightly out of breath as they climbed back up to the path, "I did choose Saint Francis of Assisi as my patron saint for my confirmation." 

"Well, that explains it then," Father Emeritus held out his hand and helped pull her back up to the road.

His hand met hers. Small, and soft in his palm.

"You have the patron saint of animals flowing through your soul." 

"Something like that." She smiled, picking the parcel out of the grass. 

The abbey was close now. Their steady pace and easy conversation made (y/n) not realize how far they had come from town. 

She could see the stretch of stone between the trees as they moved forward - ancient and unfamiliar. 

The breeze carried the warmth of the sun which was most welcoming, making her feel light on her feet. 

Their conversation had stilled as they inched closer to the gates of the abbey, and before entering (y/n) let a lingering question slip from her lips.

"Do you ever get lonely, Father?" 

Father Emeritus stopped. 

The question so innocent, but so sudden and unexpected. 

He hesitated in his answer, lips parting as if he had none. "...What makes you ask that, Sorella?"

(Y/n) hesitated herself, not entirely sure why she had asked. 

Maybe it was her ever present questioning - seeking confirmation of her own feelings. 

"I don't know..." She admitted. "I guess. I just... I imagine maybe you get lonely being a priest. All of the sacrifices you make for your faith, all of the things you can't... enjoy."

Her gaze met his, and the look he gave her in return was something new. 

Something that made her feel like she had spoken out of turn or that she had said too much.

But, he only smiled, and the moment passed. 

"Oh, it is not so bad." He hummed. 

He set his things down near the gate, rummaging through his pocket to retrieve a key. 

"Or, perhaps not as bad as you think it might be." He grinned, interested in the real reason she had asked - and he bet his soul that he knew.

Placing the key in it's fitted lock, he looked at her before turning to unlock the gate. 

"Are you not in the same position as me, Sorella?"

Her breath stilled. She had not expected him to turn the question back onto her.

His voice was smooth and steady, so sure in what he was asking. 

"Do you ask for reassurance?" 

Her fingers tightened around the parcel.

"Your overthinking..." 

She swallowed, her breath shaky. 

"All of the questions you frequently ask yourself?" 

Her heart beat desperately against her chest.

"Are you lost, my lamb?" 

His questions were imposing. So carefully and deliberately asked. It made her wonder if he saw something in her that she did not.

Or, did not care to look inward on at this point in her life. 

Her lips parted, her voice frozen in a state of confusion - unsure of what to say. 

"No, Father. I don't believe I am lost." She said it firmly. But she did not sound sure. 

And he heard it. He saw how her mind was at battle with her heart. 

The locked clicked open and the gate swung wide.

Father Emeritus turned to her and motioned her forward, just as he had when he brought her to the path. 

He did not take her hand. 

He did not make her move forward. 

He merely waited for her. And (y/n) stepped inside.

Chapter Text

The iron gate groaned behind (y/n) as Father Emeritus closed it behind them, locking it back up. 

The sound settled deeply in her body as she stood in awe before the abbey. Still surrounded by dense vegetation and tall trees, just beyond the gate the front courtyard was open - letting the sun shine so warmly into it. 

The golden light spilled over the tall white stone walls, casting shadows between the arched windows and carved edges of the structure. 

It was old and ancient, but nothing about it felt cold or unwelcoming. 

But, of course it didn't, why should a house of God feel any different?

The wind carried the sweet scent of fresh earth, orange blossom and lavender that gently baked in the afternoon sun - mingling with the familiar scent of burning palo santo that came from the open archway of the building. 

Gardens of wildflowers, fruit trees and climbing vines stretched as far as (y/n) could see. All around the courtyard and moving around the abbey. The gentle sound of running water came from small ponds within the gardens - filling the air with the same tranquil splashing she had stopped to admire about the brook. 

It was beautiful. 

Serene, quiet, warm, peaceful - heaven on earth. 

(Y/n) wondered why she hadn't seen or heard of the abbey before. 

Keeping up with the Father, the warmth continued to follow her inside. 

Tall ceilings with vaulted beams that stretched toward open skylights allowed the sun to reach her even here. The halls were lined with arches and pillars of smooth stone. The floor was unpolished limestone, worn smooth by the many feet that had traveled over it during the abbeys many years. 

Soft curtains billowed in the breeze from the open windows they lay against and the loggia style entrances throughout the main hall. 

Everything about the abbey was inviting, keeping (y/n) completely at ease. 

"Not anything like Saint Magdalene's, is it?" Father Emeritus asked her, setting his things down on a long wooden table near the entrance. 

She shook her head, still turning as she looked around at everything. "No..." 

Father Emeritus laughed, taking the parcel from her arms. 

Above the table, a large framed painting hung on the wall. She almost paid it no attention, but something about it made her gaze catch. 

Framed in dark wood, worn with age - the image startled her. 

A young woman, kneeling at the side of an old confessional - a pocket bible falling from her hand. A nun, waiting to hear her sins sat with no expression as she clutched a rosary. 

And a dark figure of a man, adorned in shades of red, whispered in the girls ear. 

Lucifer. 

The expression of the girl wasn't sorrowful, wasn't ridden with guilt - but of something warm, too trusting, too willing. 

(Y/n) swallowed. She had seen many paintings of confessions, many depictions of many religious activities.

But, something about this painting didn't feel holy. 

"Ah," Father Emeritus' voice was close to her. 

She inhaled sharply, turning to find him standing right next to her. His gaze flicking between her and the painting. 

"The painting, it upsets you?"

She didn't know what to say. 

Did it upset her? 

Was she just caught off guard by it's small unorthodox fashion? 

"I-" She shook her head, trying to find the words as she continued looking at the work.

Father Emeritus placed a hand on her shoulder. Firm but gentle - nothing out of the ordinary. 

"It is only a reminder, Sorella," he assured her, "lead us not into temptation, si?"

His words gentle, his touch warm. 

(Y/n) felt the tightness in her chest ease just a little. Of course. Yes, of course there was nothing to fear. 

"Come, let me show you around the rest of the grounds - I hate for you to come all this way just to leave so soon." His hand lingered on her shoulder. 

She hesitated, "Oh, well, I-" She didn't want to be rude. "I really should be going."

The Father's hand moved from her and he kept his demeanor pleasant and light. "Oh, humor me won't you, Sorella? It would be a shame if you did not get to see the beauty of our home." 

The abbey was beautiful. 

She had come all the way here. 

There was still time before sunset. 

"After all," He began quietly, already beginning to walk down the hall, "you were the one who had asked if I ever got lonely..." 

She didn't see it, but a devilish smirk grew on his lips as he anticipated her presence next to him within the second. 

And, he was right to feel that anticipation. (y/n) caught up to him within the second, following him like some lost puppy. 

He smiled at her and began leading her through the halls, his hands clasped behind his back as he kept an easy pace. 

The abbey was quiet, but by no means empty. 

There was an energy, unseen but feeling throughout. She saw nuns - similar enough to herself - pass in the corridors, greeting Father Emeritus with deep and gracious bows of their heads. Monks as well passed in and out of the loggias, some with scriptures in their arms and others with gardening tools - in charge of maintaining the abbey just as (y/n) was at the convent. 

Everyone seemed pleasant, content and happy. 

Father Emeritus was kind to answer all of her questions. Everything about life at the abbey, how he came to be a priest, what lead him here.

She had felt nothing and had been greeted with nothing but warmth here since she arrived.

But, now, something lingered and she could not name it. A feeling similar to the aching in her heart she had felt last night as she dreamt of today. 

In a separate courtyard to the side of the abbey, Father Emeritus had offered (y/n) a seat underneath a big, and old orange tree. 

He picked an orange blossom from one of the stems and handed it to her. "For your journey of faith, Sorella. Buona fortuna e nuovi inizi."

"Thank you, Father." She said shyly, holding the flower up to her nose. 

Heavy footsteps against the rock path of the courtyard broke their gaze from each other and to the right. 

A voice just as heavy, sharp and unamused. "Terzo."

Before them, stood a man clad in deep red. His cassock rustled against the breeze, his eyes - like Father Emeritus' - watched them closely. 

(Y/n) had never seen a priest quite like him before.

The black against his eyes... How, odd? It must have symbolized something she didn't have great knowledge on. 

And the red... It reminded her of the painting.

Reminder her of-

"I was just informed by one of our Sisters that you were home - and that you have a guest..." His gaze flicked to hers, and it was anything but welcoming. 

"Ah!" Terzo clasped his hands together and moved to place his hand on the mans shoulder, "Cardinal Copia, this is Sister (y/n), a novitiate from the Saint Magdalene's convent." 

Oh, a cardinal?

Copia's lips pressed into a thin line, glaring at Terzo as he signaled how disappointed he was. 

The silence between the three of them grew into something heavy. (y/n) wasn't sure what to say or what to do with herself. 

Her fingers just curled around the orange blossom in her lap. 

"You shouldn't be here." Copia cut the tension with even more.

His voice was cold as he shrugged Terzo's hand off of his shoulder and folded his arms.  

(Y/n) sat unmoving, embarrassment flushing her cheeks and twisting her stomach. She wasn't sure what she had done wrong.

"Oh, Copia," Terzo frowned going to sit next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders, "you don't need to be so rude to our dear Sorella." 

He scowled at the cardinal. 

"She has shown us nothing but kindness, should we not return her pleasantries in kind?"

Copia stayed quiet. 

"I- I truly didn't mean to intrude." (y/n) said, her voice small and uncertain.

Something about this situation made her feel uneasy. The way the cardinal had come off so cold, the way Father Emeritus mocked him and talked to him like he was teasing. 

There was something there between them that she didn't understand.

And for the first time since she'd stepped inside the abbey, she didn't feel as welcome as she had before. 

"No," Copia said sternly.

His gaze was no longer on her but back on Terzo. "I know you meant no ill intent, but I believe it is time for you to go home. The sun sets quickly against the east side of the mountain." 

(Y/n)s chest felt tight. There was no reason to argue, she was sure the cardinal had his reasons. 

And he was right. She should be getting home, she should have left the moment she arrived. 

And yet, she felt like something was being left unsaid. 

She couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't about her - that this was something bigger.

Copia stood unmoving, holding his gaze for a moment longer before turning and walking from the courtyard without another word - only a quiet scoff. 

The tension only lingered after his presence. 

(Y/n) stood, brushing her hands down her habit and putting her orange blossom in the small bag she'd carried with her. 

"I think I should be going now..." 

Terzo stayed seated, looking up at her with the same soft smile he had worn all day. 

He took her hand and patted it softly. "Don't mind the cardinal, Sorella," he shook his head, "he can come off a bit rude, but I assure you, his heart is in the right place." 

She only returned his explanation with a meek smile.

It was starting to get darker, had she really lingered this long?

"The Reverend Mother, she expects me back soon."

"Si, of course." He stood, "though, I worry for your safety, piccola, the path back to town is not as kind during the night."

There it was again, that tightness in her chest. She looked towards the abbey, to the iron gate she could see just barely above the trees that surrounded them. 

"Your Reverend Mother, she would rather see you safe, no?" 

"Well... Si, but-"

"Per favore, let me offer you refuge here at the abbey tonight." He was insistent, his voice as smooth as honey as he coaxed her into staying. 

A kind, gentle, and most gracious priest offering her safety for the night. Nothing was wrong with that. 

"I really shouldn't, Father." 

His smile never faded, but something in his eyes grew mischievous. "Are you certain you know the way back?" 

She wasn't. 

Her heart thudded painfully, everything he asked was out of kindness and concern for her. How could she argue or refuse him again?

"Alright..."  

"Bene." He motioned her back towards the abbey.

The air was cooler now as they made their way back inside, but the glow of lanterns in the hallways kept the feeling of warmth trapped around them. Terzo lead her up a small flight of stairs, this new hall lined with rounded wooden doors (y/n) assumed were the entrances to the quarters of the Brothers and Sisters that filled the parish. 

Near the end of the hall, close to another set of stairs leading up, he stopped at one of the doors and opened it up for her. 

The room was quaint but welcoming. A modest single bed sat against the far wall next to a window that overlooked the courtyards and a small round table held a basin and pitcher.

"Will this be comfortable?" Terzo asked, lighting a lantern on the bedside table. 

"More than comfortable, Father. Thank you." (y/n) said, placing her bag next to the bed. 

He nodded and stepped back to the door. With a calming exhale he looked to her, "you're free to stay as long as you'd like, Sorella. But, the gate will be open in the morning for you."

(Y/n) sat on the bed, smoothing her hands over the plushy white covers. "Grazi." 

"Prego..." He grinned, slowly making his way out of the doorway.

"And, ah, if you need anything," He pointed towards the stairs, "my quarters are upstairs. Don't hesitate to come find me."

(Y/n) nodded, "okay, Father. Thank you." 

"Sleep well, Sorella." 

The door shut between them. 

The bed was comfortable, the covers were soft and warm, and yet, (y/n) found herself restless. 

She lay there, staring at the ceiling, her heart beating with that slow and steady ache. 

She shouldn't have stayed. She should have left when the cardinal said so.

But she didn't, and now she laid there terrified of what the Reverend Mother would do. 

She feared this would be her last journey outside of the convent, that trust would be broken, and she'd never see the sun again in the same way she saw it today.

Her thoughts were heavy on her mind, but eventually she fell sleepy.

And for the first time in a long time, she fell asleep without saying her prayers. 

It had been hours since the two had retired to their respective quarters, but Terzo couldn't sleep. 

He had changed into something more comfortable.

He had laid in bed, tossing and turning. 

He got up and stared out of the window for awhile. 

He took a hot bath, ate a snack, and even tried to pick up a book. 

But, he couldn't stop thinking about her. 

Eventually, he just found himself back downstairs - draped in a thin cotton robe, barefooted, watching her sleep through a crack in the door. 

Besides the fact that she was a beautiful woman, the fact that she was kind, and gentle, innocent, and pure... She was a lost soul. 

Though she didn't know how to admit it, he saw right through her. 

Was he not also a shepherd that would tend to his own flock? 

Her naivety and what little faith she had left had made her oblivious to what the walls of the abbey really held, and to who he, Father Emeritus, really was.  

Watching her tucked beneath the blankets he had already made up his mind for her. 

A cloistered life at Saint Magdalene's convent would put her spirit to shame. She deserved so much more than that-

"What are you doing?" A sharp whisper came from behind him.

Terzo nearly jumped out of his skin, almost slamming the door as he leapt backwards turning to whomever had startled him. 

"Che cazzo?! You scared the hell out of me."

Copia stood on the last step of the staircase to his right, his eyes tired - wearing a red robe similar to Terzo's, a tee shirt and shorts as he held an empty water pitcher. 

"What the hell are you doing running around like a little rat for?" Terzo steadied his breath, clutching his chest. 

Copia looked down at his socks which had apparently made him stealthily quiet. 

"Well, apparently sneaking around better than you." He chided, "what are you doing?"

He asked again as he moved towards Terzo and peaked into the room. 

His posture stiffened, and his voice became much less amused, "I thought I told her to leave."

Terzo shrugged like he hadn't completely lead her into this position. "It got late."

"Don't act like I don't know what you're up to." Copia whispered, jamming his finger into Terzo's chest. 

"What?" Terzo's eyes darkened as a grin grew on his face, "I'm not up to anything... This is all in the hands of the Lord."

Copia scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Oh please. Listen to me-"

"Look at her though," Terzo interjected, "so peaceful, so innocent. Isn't she adorable?"

He had Copia by the shoulders now, forcing him to look into the room.

"You should have seen her today, cardinal." He began to reminisce, "She saved a little bird by the brook. Oh, il mio cuore."

His hands found his heart as he folded them over his chest.

But, his voice dropped lower, "the way she helped me and followed me here willingly, so kind and trusting..."

"Exactly!" Copia scowled. 

"She doesn't know you from Adam, and she trusts you because you let her believe that you're a priest."

"Am I not?" Terzo smiled. 

"Vaffanculo. Not a priest of God." Copia reminded him. 

"She leaves in the morning, capisci? She does not belong here."

Terzo frowned at his words, he knew (y/n) would leave in the morning of her own freewill, but whether she came crawling back would remain in the hands of the Lord - his or hers. 

"Go back to bed, Father." Copia mocked, making his way again to refill his water. 

When morning broke through the window, (y/n) stretched and rose with the sun. 

For the first time in awhile she had slept soundly without interruption and she sunk herself deeper into the pillow. 

All was calm and all was well, until -

She remembered she wasn't in the convent.

She was still in the abbey. 

And she had greatly overstayed her welcome. 

Moving quickly she threw the covers back over the bed trying to tidy them as much as she could. She grabbed her belongings, threw her veil and shoes back on and ran out of the room. 

She moved past a group of Brothers and Sisters she assumed were on their way to their morning prayer as she ran through the hall and down the stairs to the main level. 

Bounding down the stairs she about toppled into the same man she had run into yesterday - Father Emeritus. 

"Sorella! Joining us for morning prayer?" He asked, his hands on her shoulders, guiding her lightly down the last few steps. 

(Y/n) brushed him off gently and just smiled at him. "Oh, Father, I must be getting back now. Thank you so much, really, for everything!" 

She continued moving past him, giving him a wave and continuing her march towards the gate in all of her hurried chaos. 

Stepping in her path accidentally was cardinal Copia. A small plate in one hand an a cup of tea in the other he barely skirted out of her way. 

(Y/n) halted and fell to her knees, kissing the ground before him. 

She couldn't leave knowing she had been on such bad terms with him yesterday, she had to make it right. 

Copia looked down at her in confusion and back up to meet Terzo's gaze, his brow furrowed in question. 

"Cardinal." (y/n) said looking up at him and then bowing her head again in respect before she got up and just kept running. 

Terzo laughed and waved to her. "Arrivederci, Sorella! The gate is always open!"

She called one more time, waving back, "Grazi, Padre! Arrivederci!"

Running didn't feel like a chore, it only kept her quick as she moved back down the path to the abbey and into town. 

She passed Saint Mark's, the farmers market, and through the narrow corridors of buildings and homes until she reached the gates of the convent. 

The sun felt much cooler here, and the grey stone in contrast to the abbey was not as welcoming. 

Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, holding out for hope that the gate might be unlocked. But, she knew it wouldn't be. 

She was expected home last night and she never returned. 

She wrapped her hand around one of the metal bars and pulled on it.

Locked. 

Her shoulders sank in defeat as her hand hovered over the rope to the outside bell - nervous of what was to come next. 

She rang it.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

A moment passed and she saw a shadow move against one of the windows. 

Another moment and the main entrance opened. A familiar face stood before her, and it was not a face that was pleased to see her. 

The Reverend Mother marched slowly towards the gate, a few other Sisters doing their outside chores stopped and began watching what was about to unfold. 

The sound of the key unlocking the gate made (y/n) feel like she was in a prison. Her Mother didn't speak a single word as she made work of her hands, letting her back into the convent. 

"Where have you been?" The Reverend Mother gripped her by the arm, pulling her in roughly, "we thought maybe you'd been kidnapped." 

Her tone was nowhere amusing, but (y/n) just wanted to laugh. 

She knew she should have been back to the convent before sunset, but, other than that she had done nothing wrong. 

"Reverend Mother, please," she began, "I- it had become late and I hadn't realized it. I stayed the night in an abbey." 

The Reverend Mother stopped in the courtyard, raising an eyebrow, not sure if she wanted to hear (y/n) out. 

"I met a priest at the farmers market-"

"A priest? What priest?" The Mother pressed. 

"Oh, well, Father Emeritus," She said sweetly, "I helped him bring his goods back to his parish."

"Saint Mark's?"

"No, Mother, the abbey beyond that one. Just up the mountain a little further."

The Sisters working in the courtyard stilled and a collective gasp overcame them. The Reverend Mother looked at (y/n) with wide eyes. 

"Caro Dio, bambina!" She forced the sign of the cross upon herself and gripped (y/n) tightly again, dragging her inside. 

The office door slammed shut behind them and the Reverend Mother's grip was tight and unyielding. 

(Y/n) stumbled and gasped quietly as she was forced to the ground. 

Her knees hit the cold ground with a thud - a dull pain shooting through her body. 

"Signore, abbi pietà di questa ragazza." The Reverend Mother whispered to herself as she forced a rosary into (y/n)s hands. 

"Pray, Sorella, fifteen Hail Mary's."

"Mother, I-"

"Now, Sorella!" 

She had never heard her voice like this before. Cold, demanding, scared. 

(Y/n)s hands clasped together, trembling as she began repeating her prayer under her breath. 

Her mind was spinning, tripping over every event that had happened the day prior.

She wasn't sure what she had done that was so wrong. It was that same shameful feeling she had felt when the cardinal had told her to leave. 

She had only helped a priest, and he had only greeted her with kindness in return. 

The Reverend Mother paced the room as she finished up her prayers and immediately snapped at her again when she fell quiet. 

"Two Corinthians, eleven-fourteen." She demanded.

(Y/n) shook her head, looking to her Mother for some kind of answer, some kind of comfort. "I- I don't-"

"Your studies girl, think of your studies." 

(Y/n) choked on a sob and shook her head again, but - clearer than day the words came to her, "And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light."  

Her eyes shot up the the Reverend Mothers', tears freely falling down her cheeks. 

No. 

She was wrong. 

"Sorella innocente, you have met with the deceiver." The Reverend Mother's voice was low, sorrowful and angry. 

"Mother, no-" (y/n) begged. 

"You will pray," The Mother interrupted, "you will pray until you are cleansed of this sin. And may God have mercy on your soul." 

(Y/n) looked down to the rosary she clutched with sweaty palms, her quiet sobs continuing out of confusion and frustration. 

"Begin your Our Father's."

And on a shaky and quiet breath she did.

"Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us-"

Her breath slowed as she stuttered over the next six words, her mind wandering to the way they had spilled from Father Emeritus' lips - "And lead us not into temptation... But, deliver us from evil. Amen." 

Chapter Text

It had been almost a month since (y/n) had left the convent. Since she had stepped beyond these walls and out into the world. Since she had found herself in the presence of the man the Reverend Mother referred to as The Deceiver. 

The weight of her supposed wrongdoings kept her shackled to the pews in the chapel every morning and to her bedside every night as prayed and cried for forgiveness. 

And yet - she still wasn't so sure what she was begging to be forgiven for. 

She could whisper her prayers forwards and backwards, in Latin, Italian, and English - the words she had said thousands of times seemed to loose all meaning. 

There was never any relief, never any sign that she had begged for. 

But still, she kept praying and forced herself to believe in the promises of faith she had made to her Savior. 

Something inside of her was slipping, but she refused to let it. 

She noticed the way the other Sisters looked at her in the halls and how they whispered behind her back when they thought she could not hear. It was as if she had committed the most atrocious sin and that she would be a prisoner here for the rest of her life, expected to repent every moment of her waking hours. 

What had she done that was so wrong? 

She couldn't bring herself to come to terms with the words the Reverend Mother had said. The abbey was not a house of evil, the people there were not malicious... 

There were no human sacrifices, no sacrilegious alters, no upside down crosses, no unorthodox rituals...

She let slide a few of the things she had found odd - the Cardinal, his attire and unwelcoming attitude, the confessional painting. None of it was really out of the ordinary. She had just been in an unfamiliar setting and that was all. 

The Deceiver? Ha! 

(Y/n) wanted to scoff at the notion. The Reverend Mother didn't know him like she did. 

But, her mind still fought against her heart. 

And so, with Father Emeritus at the root of all of her prayers, she continued to repent. 

Folding laundry and pinning up newly washed sheets, clothes and other garments outside had become a comforting chore. 

Often a task performed alone, (y/n) found peace in the repetitive process, able to let her mind wander without other members of the convent staring and wondering what was on her mind. 

Facing the South, the clothesline got sun almost all day long - keeping the energy warm and light around the cool stone of the convent. 

Keeping to herself, she took time in carefully draping sheets over the line and pinning them in place. 

A warm gust of wind rattled the fabric and lifted her veil slightly. She let herself revel in the feeling of the breeze touching her, reminding her of how it felt when she visited the abbey. 

The way the orange blossoms smelled in the courtyard. 

The way the golden sunlight sank deeply into the white stone of the open halls. 

The way there was so much warmth to his presence. 

Her heart sank. 

She shouldn't be thinking about that. 

But she did often. 

She tightly clutched the linen sheet she held, her knuckles going white. 

She should not think about the abbey. She should not think about him. But lately, it was becoming impossible not to.

She dropped to her knees and tore over her head the rosary from around her neck - clutching it tightly, her eyes shut, she whispered to herself The Apostles Creed. 

This had become routine of the past week. 

Any thought of the abbey, any thought of him - she shut down immediately with prayer, no matter what she was doing. 

She was becoming a nervous wreck, falling apart at the idea she was loosing her faith or worse, falling into sin. 

"I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting, Amen..." 

She opened her eyes, looking to the clothesline in front of her. 

The air had stilled, not even a slow breeze moved the fabric. It was as if the wind had stopped to say a brief hello and continued moving on its way. 

"Praying again, Sister?" The Reverend Mother entered the courtyard finding (y/n) on her knees. 

"Oh, uh, yes, Mother. I was just getting back to my chores." She stood and faced her Mother. 

"Never mind that," The Reverend Mother grabbed her hand, "I want to send you on an errand." 

"Like, out of the convent?" (y/n) asked hesitantly. 

"Si..."

"Oh, Mother I don't think-"

"Sorella," the Reverend Mother looked at her sternly, "I believe this will do you good. You enjoy the town do you not?"

"Yes, but-"

"Sister Agnes will accompany you. Just to bring some vegetables from our garden to one of the market vendors, si?"

(Y/n) looked down at the rosary she still held in her hand. What would she do if she needed to repent while they were out in the town? She would make a scene-

"Your repentance has been most admirable, Sorella. But, God also asks us to be apart of his army, no? It is time for you to wear your armor. I have no doubt your faith is stronger than ever." Reverend Mother complimented her. 

But, (y/n) was more troubled than she had ever been, her prayers and begging were nothing more than a shield being pelted by the arrows of doubt. 

"You leave in an hour, meet at the gate." She patted her hand and walked from the courtyard back into the convent. 

The hour passed by slowly, (y/n) only passing the time with more prayer while she tried to get her laundry chores done. 

When she found herself back at the gate, her fingers fiddled with the strap of the satchel that held their produce - anxious as ever. 

The words of the Reverend Mother circulated in her mind: "I have no doubt your faith is stronger than ever."

It was a lie, but perhaps if she continued to repeat it over and over it might become true. 

The sound of precise and motivated footsteps approached her. Sister Agnes in her pressed linens and disapproving silence gazed over (y/n) as if to watch her for any signs of weakness. "Let us go, I do not wish to linger among the town any longer than need be." 

Her words were annoyingly stern as was the permanent frown on her face.  

(Y/n) forced a polite smile, gripping tighter the strap of her bag. 

The front gate shuttered open as they made their way into the street. 

Wind swept through the street corridor - warm and inviting like it was stopping by again to welcome her back out of the convent. 

"I will be strong. I will be steadfast in my faith. My faith is stronger than ever." (y/n) began repeating to herself, ever so quietly under her breath as Sister Agnes marched in front of her. 

If there was any time to start lying to herself, it would be now. 

She would deliver the produce, help set it up, and return home.

That was it. There was no room for error. 

No matter how much her heart said otherwise from the very moment they walked into the market and her gaze wandered to the path that lead towards the abbey.

No. 

"My faith is stronger than ever." She repeated. 

The town square was alive with all of the same excitement (y/n) had known all those days ago. The scent of warm bread, fresh herbs and ripe fruit. The sound of shouting vendors, laughing children and the rustling of leaves from the trees that were now bright green - many beginning to loose their flowers. 

(Y/n) focused on her task at hand. She took a deep breath, having a moment of realization - what was there to be afraid of? 

Maybe her faith was stronger than she believed it to be. 

She took a deep and relaxing breath, continuing to place produce in the wooden box displays, catching a glance of Sister Agnes who was a few carts up talking with one of the vendors to make sure all of their things were accounted for. 

It was easy to keep her hands busy, letting the work ease and keep her mind off of the things she did not want to be thinking of. Much like how she enjoyed doing the laundry. 

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smoothing down her veil from the breeze that began to lift it. 

Shoppers wandered by and she just smiled at them, answering questions if she was asked. 

Yes, for the first time in weeks she began to feel like life without fear would be possible. It was okay to still have the simple joy of conversation with others, still okay to share her kindness and generosities. 

Yes, everything was going to be okay.

"Buongiorno, Sorella." 

No, everything wasn't going to be okay. 

That voice - kind, smooth and gentle, laced with something she didn't understand. 

Her breath caught and her smile faded. Her hand work faltered, nearly dropping the bundle of dried basil she had been arranging. 

She didn't even need to look at him, his presence was enough. 

"F-father." She barely choked out a whisper.

She chanced a quick look towards Sister Agnes, panic seeping into her chest, but gratefully finding she was still preoccupied with the vendor. 

"You shouldn't be talking to me." She said weakly, trying to make it sound like a warning. But it was entirely unconvincing. 

Father Emeritus couldn't help but laugh a little quietly, bending down trying to meet her gaze. "No? Are you forbidden fruit, Sorella?" He joked. 

(Y/n) shook her head, her hands still trembling against the produce she tried to continue organizing. 

"Please..." She begged quietly, still not looking him in the eye and trying to steal another glance towards Sister Agnes. 

Terzo's expression softened, watching her hands tremble and the way refused to meet his eyes. This was not the same curious and bright-eyed girl he had met a month ago. 

This was a girl who was frightened and burdened and repressed with something she didn't know how to express. 

"Mi dispiace, Sorella. I was just teasing-" He reached out a hand to place on her shoulder, but the moment his fingers grazed her habit she jerked away.

"Don't touch me." Her voice was sharper than she expected it to be - her eyes finally snapping up to meet his. 

Terzo's expression fell as he brought his hand back to his side. 

"Ah," he took a step back, "what have they been telling you about me?"

(Y/n) couldn't look away, her whole being vibrating from fear. 

What was he saying? 

She felt like he was... Exposing himself. 

"They've been filling your head with awful things, haven't they?" The way he looked at her was pitiful and it scared her. 

For the first time since they had met she felt his gentleness dissipate and warp into something a little more threatening - accusatory.  

Her lips parted as she tried to find the words but someone spoke for her.

"Is this man bothering you, Sister?" 

It was the Cardinal. 

Almost unrecognizable to her in a plain black suit and no makeup. But, his cool tone, and unimpressed gaze were unmistakably him. 

Terzo didn't say anything but waited for (y/n) to respond. 

The two men just stood there, waiting, watching for anything. 

What was she supposed to say?

What did they expect?

Her stomach twisted, her hands gripped the fabric of her habit and she just stared back - looking back and forth between the two of them. 

Why did she feel like she was the one on trial here?

"Sister (y/n)!" 

A cold, sharp grip grabbed her arm, wrenching her backwards. 

"You foolish, girl! In nome di Dio, cosa stai facendo?!" Sister Agnes hissed. 

Her grip around her arm tightened like a vice as she dragged her from the vendors booth. People in the crowd of the market began to stop and look at what was going on, making this a public spectacle. 

Humiliation began to seep into (y/n) as she looked at everyone who and stopped to watch. 

"Cosa stai facendo?!" Sister Agnes asked again, "are you trying to embarrass the entire convent? Conversing with these-"

She looked over Copia and Terzo with disgust, "these men!?" 

(Y/n) was shaking her head frantically, trying to pull herself free of the older Sister's firm hand. 

"Answer me!" She shook (y/n), her voice trembling with fury. 

"N-no, Sister I-" 

"Heretic!"  Sister Agnes scolded, "have you no shame, Sister!? Falling into temptation yet again!?"

(Y/n)'s lip began to tremble, the word felt like a smack to the face.

The utter humiliation she felt was too much for her to continue holding back tears. 

The crowd pressed closer, forcing Copia and Terzo into the middle of it - only watching her like two dark specters. 

Murmurs and gasps rippled outwards - whispers of what the young nun had done that was so blasphemous. 

"You disgrace yourself and the Saint Magdalene's convent," Sister Agnes seethed, "in front of the entire town. In front of God." 

(Y/n)s breath hitched. "Please, this isn't-"

"Quiet!" her quip cracked like a whip in the tense silence of the town square, "I won't have you embarrassing yourself any further." 

The grip on her arm tightened and she was dragged through the crowd, the onlookers giving them space as she was marched forward. 

Some of the crowed turned to the two men before going on their way - quiet conversation continuing amongst the market. 

Copia was fixated on (y/n), watching as she followed the uptight Sister in shame. "Look what you've done." He exhaled. 

"Mi scusi?" Terzo let out an amused huff. 

"This position you've put her in," Copia shook his head, his gaze turning upwards to the sky, "do you think of no one but yourself?"

Terzo rolled his eyes, "is that a serious question?"

In his mind, this was all for (y/n)'s benefit. Though she may not see it that way now, he knew what he was doing - what magic he was playing with. 

"You know the kind of filthy things they're filling her mind with about us..."

Terzo mused, tapping his finger against his chin. 

"I can't help that the good people of Christ are afraid of the way we live life in all of its delicacies." 

Copia scoffed, "Delicacies?" He turned away, shaking his head, "You torment the souls of those poor, innocent girls."

He paused, turning back to Terzo for a brief second. 

"Go ruin someone else who deserves it." 

Sister Agnes didn't say a single word the entire walk back to the convent and (y/n) didn't dare to speak either. 

She wanted to drag her feet the moment she set eyes on the iron gate, not knowing what was waiting for her on the inside. 

Sister Agnes never slowed her pace. She continued to drag her along through the halls, passing by other Sisters who forced their gaze away from the situation unfolding before them.

Not one of them would ever dare step out of line to help her. 

She was dragged into the Reverend Mother's office but, the Reverend Mother was not there. 

The wooden door slammed behind them.

"Kneel." Sister Agnes demanded. 

(Y/n)'s knees were already buckling before she was forced to fall by the command. Her hands gripped her habit tightly as she fidgeted with the fabric, trying to find some sort of comfort from the rough cotton. 

Sister Agnes moved to the back of room and (y/n) didn't dare turn around. 

She knew what was coming. 

The wooden disciplinary cane scraped against the ground as it was dragged out from its place. 

(Y/n) squeezed her eyes shut, trying to not give the Sister the pleasure of begging or crying to be spared the rod. 

The cane tapped against the ground as if it were a physical manifestation of Sister Agnes thinking. 

"You know why you're here, don't you, Sister (y/n)?"

The way she said her name made her shiver. It was cruel and unrelenting. 

She hesitated, unsure of what she was expected to say. Her lips parting but no words spilling forth. 

CRACK. 

The cane hit the wooden bench that she leaned against. 

(Y/n) shuddered, feeling the tears begin to well in her eyes.

"Answer me."

She flinched. 

"I'm here b-because..." She choked on her words, "I was speaking with them."

Sister Agnes scoffed, walking closer. "Who are they, Sister?"

(Y/n) froze. The words wouldn't leave her mouth, they burned in her throat as she tried to get them to escape. 

"Say it." 

(Y/n) shook her head and looked up to her with plea.

"You converse with the Devil," She spat, "and you refuse, in a house of God, to confess what lies His black tongue has told you?" 

She stepped back and began circling her like a wolf would a wounded fawn. 

(Y/n) shook her head again, this time in rebuke. 

She had done no such thing. 

"You have sinned, Sister. Say it."

Her breath hitched, "I have sinned..."

"And what does our good book say about temptation?"

She knew her scriptures, of course she did, but something in her was refusing to say it. 

"Say it!"

Sister Agnes dropped the cane and forcefully took (y/n)s hands from her lap, laying her palms flat against the bench. 

(Y/n) wanted to yank them back, but she stayed trembling against the wood. 

"I won't ask you again, Sister." 

Sister Agnes had let her falter the last time but wouldn't anymore.

She whipped the cane against (y/n)s knuckles. 

CRACK. 

The strike landed a most sickening snap. 

White-hot pain bloomed instantly in her hands, several of the knuckles spilling blood from the broken skin. 

(Y/n)'s mouth fell open in a silent scream before the sound finally tore from her throat. 

The searing pain moved deep up into her arms, tears spilling over her lashes before she had any chance to stop them. 

"Say it." Sister Agnes demanded again, waiting for her answer. 

(Y/n) gasped for air, her body trembling in shock. 

"M-matthew twenty six-fourty one. Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation-" she sobbed. 

"The sprit is indeed willing," 

Her hands trembled as she tried to recoil, but Sister Agnes held them in place. 

"but the flesh is weak." 

She exhaled a shaky breath as the last words fell from her mouth, expecting her hands to be released from their relenting grip. 

But the silence stretched on, Sister Agnes continued standing there. 

The cane had not moved from where she had last ended with it. 

(Y/n) barely dared to look up to her, her eyes red and rimmed with tears. 

Sister Agnes looked down at her. 

Cold, disgusted, unmoved by her sobs. 

"Good." 

CRACK. 

The final strike came without warning. 

Another guttural scream tore from (y/n)s throat as she began openly weeping, pulling her hands quickly into her lap once Sister Agnes had released her grip on her. 

"Perhaps, you'll remember your place now." She said, no emotion behind her words as she wiped blood from the cane before putting it back in its place. 

(Y/n) sat shaking, afraid to look at her aching hands. 

"Go back to your quarters, Sorella," Agnes sighed, opening the door to the Reverend Mother's office, "you have prayers to be said." 

Chapter Text

It had been a little over a week since Sister Agnes had dragged (y/n) back to the convent to beat the sin out of her. 

The broken skin of her knuckles were almost completely healed over, but the bruising and ever lingering ache remained on her hands as a constant reminder of her heresy. 

Her punishments - given in the name of divinity - had tainted her name around the convent. Sister's she had once considered friends didn't look her way any longer, they didn't speak to her, out of their own fear they might fall into the same temptations she had by proxy. 

Her path was her own, and God was her only hope now - the final decider to whether her soul should be saved or damned. 

After every event of the past month, (y/n) believed God would surly save her soul a special place in Hell. 

It didn't matter anymore what she questioned to be true about the abbey or Father Emeritus. 

She knew everything she had done was wrong. It didn't matter why. It only mattered that she did it.

The silence within the convent pressed in on her, the weight growing heavy on her shoulders as it suffocated her like never before. 

She prayed more. Longer. Harder - still never finding relief in her pleas. 

Her mind was never quiet, and her world began to shift a day or two after her praying hands had been beat back into submission. 

It was only one night, one pivotal moment of unconsciousness that began changing the trajectory of her life.

Her faith. 

Sleep hadn't come easily in the past nights, and (y/n) had found herself curled up in bed after prayer, crying herself to sleep with the weight of her wrongdoings and her growing feelings of despair. 

Once sleep had come to lay her gentle hands over her body, she began dreaming. 

She dreamt of the abbey, standing before it as it basked in the sunlight. The gardens were so lush and the breeze pushed her forward towards all of its grand beauty. 

She had never known a place to be so beautiful, so serene and peaceful. 

Father Emeritus stood underneath an archway, watching her as she walked towards him. 

His expression was gentle and unassuming. No malice behind his eyes, no deception. 

Only warmth and understanding. 

"You look tired, Sorella." He said quietly, spinning the stem of an orange tree branch between his fingers. 

He handed her the small branch, lush green and fragrant with its white blossoms. 

(Y/n) took it, brining the blossoms to her nose and inhaling its sweet fragrance. She nodded, trusting he didn't need her to speak. 

"Come, rest awhile-" He gestured her to follow him as he lead her deeper into the courtyard and gardens. Brining her to a daybed that sat underneath the trees and next to fountains. 

There was no hesitation. No fear. 

Only trust.

She was safe here... 

When her eyes fluttered open, the warmth was gone. 

She was still in her room at the convent. Her breath came fast.

It was only a dream, she couldn't control that. It was only a dream. 

Staying still on her back, she blessed herself with the sign of the cross and began praying. 

The next night, she didn't cry. Sleep took her quicker than she had anticipated. 

And again, she found herself at the abbey. 

It was as if she had never left, finding herself at the daybed where Father Emeritus had led her in her first dream. 

He stood before her, his expression still gentle and kind, but something in his eyes told her that he was expecting to find her here. 

"You're still here." He smiled. 

It wasn't a question but rather a statement. He sounded pleased. 

She still didn't talk to him.

She didn't need to. 

"I knew you'd come back," he held out his hand - an invitation, not a command. 

She took it. His fingers curled around hers, his thumb brushing the inside of her wrist. Warmth radiated through her body, lingering, seeping deeper into her bones. 

She exhaled, trying to steady her breath as they looked each other in the eyes. 

She should have let go, but she didn't. 

There was a shift in the breeze, something that made her shudder.

Nothing menacing, nothing frightening, but something different. 

The way he looked at her. 

The way he held her hand a little too long. 

The way the quiet afternoon left something unsaid between them.

And the fact that she didn't want to pull away...

Her eyes snapped open. Still in her room, in the air that was now cold, stale and lifeless. 

The phantom touch of Father Emeritus lingered on her hand and quickly she rubbed it against her blankets like she was trying to wipe away the feeling. 

Her other hand found her chest, her heart beating quickly - not out of fear, but something else. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to forget the silly dream, but she couldn't.

The feeling lingered, and she knew, the next time she slept he'd still be waiting there for her. 

She tried to resist sleep after that, though she knew she'd never win. 

It would be inevitable, and the next night she eventually gave in to her exhaustion. 

When she slipped away she was already there. 

The warmth of the air was thicker, heavier with something desperate. The golden light had melted into the deepness of evening, and the cheerful birdsong of day shifted to the intimate orchestra of crickets at night. 

She was still near the daybed, but no longer sitting. 

And he was behind her. 

Close. Close enough to feel the heat of his body, close enough for him to touch. 

And he did. 

A hand, feather-light smoothed down her arm - barely enough to be considered a touch, but enough that it made (y/n)s breath catch in her throat. 

"You seem troubled, Sorella," he whispered, his voice low and filled with concern.

She swallowed, her mouth dry as she let her lips part, still unable to say anything. 

He hummed, his hand tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the backs of his fingers moving to brush against her cheek. 

The first true act of intimacy. 

She should move away. She shouldn't let him touch her this way. 

But, she leaned into him. A sigh escaped her lips, the warmth of his touch sinking deep into her skin. 

"I can help you, you know?" 

His face was practically pressed against hers as he watched the way she responded to his hands on her. 

"If you let me." 

And there it was again, in front of her, he held out the orange tree branch - its blossoms the purest white she'd ever seen. 

And. She took it...

In a panic she woke up. Her body hot, her skin slick with sweat. 

She clenched her legs together, an unfamiliar ache burning like fire deep in her core. 

Her chest heaved as she sat up, unsure of what to do with herself. 

Looking around her small room, trying to feel grounded, the floor bathed in the glow of the cold moon shown over some of her belongings. Her small satchel sat next to her sandals, a few of its contents spilling out. 

One of which was a dried petal. 

The flower Father Emeritus had gifted her. The orange blossom. 

And so, after a week of breaking, a week of confusion, desperation, and cries for answers - (y/n) finally found herself standing in front of her little bed. 

Neatly made sheets, her bag at her side, her bedroom window open.

She gazed outside, moving to make her final leap of faith. 

Looking out of her window she looked around the courtyard and shifted her focus towards the garden wall. That's how she would get out of the convent. 

She dropped her bag out, watching it fall the thirty or so feet from her room. 

She bit her lip, looking to the side of building - there was the trellis, laced with ivy that climbed up the cold stone. 

Sitting on the ledge of her window she glanced back into her little room. The one quiet space that had heard all of her sins and sorrows. The one space that kept her confined while she cried herself to sleep, begging for forgiveness. 

Perhaps it was good that their companionship was outgrown. 

With a final deep breath she scooted closer towards the trellis and took hold of the siding, moving herself carefully on top of it. 

She climbed down, making careful precision that she didn't step and fumble on her habit.

It was terribly late into the night, she didn't fear anyone would catch her, but she tried to be as quiet as she could while the ivy leaves rustled against her. 

Once on the ground she looked back up to her room. 

She didn't know if she'd see it again or if she'd be back by tomorrow evening. 

Truly, she didn't know. 

She sought confession, that was all. 

She couldn't bare the thought of the Reverend Mother or Sister Agnes hearing of her most unholy dreams - she knew exactly what would come from that. 

But - the very man who was at the root of it all... 

She knew he'd take her in without judgement. 

Taking her bag, she threw it over the garden wall. She looked behind her once more, making sure she was alone. 

She was.

She took her own time throwing herself over, trying her best to land as gently as she could on the other side. 

It wasn't graceful - the fall. 

She brushed herself off and slung the bag around her should, looking ahead of her into the dark street corridors, the convent looming behind her. 

With a shaky breath she moved forward, the path to the abbey was just beyond.

The path was dark and empty, the night air heavy with anticipation, but the cool night breeze blew westward with her - keeping her steadfast in her journey. 

And, before she knew it, she was standing before the gates. 

They were open, just like Father Emeritus had promised a month ago. 

The sun was just barely beginning to rise, adding only faint cool light to the sky. And yet, in all of the candlelight the abbey stood in all of its glory, just as warm and inviting as she had seen it the first time. 

The large archway entrance invited her forward, the wind hitting her with a forceful gust - welcoming her back. 

She walked quietly into the main hall. The sheer red curtains around the loggias billowed inward as she passed by, looking around to see if anyone was in her company. 

She seemed to be alone and she stopped in front of the painting that was forever burned into her mind. 

The confessional scene revealed itself before her, the figures half-bathed in shadow and their expressions unreadable. 

She swallowed hard. Had it been her in the painting all along?

She studied it, only for her gaze to be taken away from the sound of approaching footsteps. 

Turning, she stilled. It wasn't him, it was someone else. 

Moving down the stairs, emerging from the early morning shadows was an older man - long white hair pulled back in a neat single braid and wearing black and grey robes that signified he was ready to begin his day.

Pausing in his steps he blinked his weary eyes at her. 

She knew nothing of him, he knew nothing of her. 

A young nun, in their abbey? 

"Perso, sei Sorella?" He asked, is voice calm but pressing. 

(Y/n) didn't really know what to say. Was she lost?

Maybe she should leave. The more she thought about it, it was so stupid she was here again. She was being foolish. 

But, she just stood there. Her fingers toying with and clutching the satchel around her. 

"I-I'm looking for Father Emeritus?"

Silence. 

His brow lifted, then, softly - "Which Emeritus?" 

The words echoed throughout the empty hall, heavy with question. 

She shook her head. She didn't understand what he meant by that. 

The ghost of a knowing smile appeared on his face, "Venire," he motioned her forward as he turned back to the stairs, "I think I know who you're looking for."

He didn't rush her. His pace was easy as if he were just going about a regular morning. 

He didn't ask her any more questions. Never pressed why she was here, but he didn't need to, he was capable of speculating the circumstances. 

They walked past the room she had stayed in the first and last time she was here, and then began their ascent of the other set of stairs.

Nothing was familiar anymore as they reached the top. 

The corridor, though short, seemed to stretch on forever.

She could turn around. This was it, her last chance.

But, she didn't. 

They reached a door at the end of the corridor. 

The older man looked at her as they stood before it - a silent question shared between them.

Is this really what you want?

(Y/n) didn't move back, didn't turn to look behind her, but only stayed looking at him. 

Her movement, or lack there of, was enough of an answer. 

He knocked on the door a few times before cracking it open. 

"Sei disponibile?" He murmured, (y/n) still waiting behind him - her heart beating out of her chest, waiting to hear a response.

"A quest'ora?" The response was muffled from where she stood, "perché?"

The older man looked over his shoulder, stepping aside as he let the door swing open fully. 

(Y/n) stood there like a dog that had run away from home, coming back with its tail between its legs. 

Terzo straightened in the chair he had been lounging in - his hair still tousled from sleep, his shirt untucked and undone at the collar, the sleeves rolled up against his forearms.

Unlike the older man, he didn't seem ready to begin his day. 

"Sorella?"  

(Y/n) bowed her head, embarrassed, guilt-ridden, already feeling the inevitable tears welling in her eyes. 

The older man placed a hand on her shoulder, offering her an invitation to enter the room. 

She did, and Terzo moved from his chair to go to her.

"Grazi, fratello." He nodded, excusing his brother.  

The air here was warmer, softer and sweet, laced with spice and fresh air from the burning incense and open balcony. 

The room felt lived in, comfortable, and inviting. The kind of space a man did not perform in, but simply existed in. 

She still couldn't look at him, even now as he stood so close looking at her, waiting for her to say something. 

"Why are you here, (y/n)?" He asked, he voiced coated in genuine concern. 

The way he said her name, so gentle, like they had been friends for many years - it made her look up. 

He smiled at her when she met his eyes but all she could do was finally let her tears fall down her cheeks.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, sliding them lower against her arms. His expression was worried, tilting his head as he waited for more of an explanation. 

She inhaled a shaky breath, confused of how she felt about him touching her like this - the way he touched her in her dreams. 

"Benedicimi, Padre, perché ho peccato." A whisper, falling from her lips without thought and without hesitation, not fully understanding the weight of what she was asking for. 

A blessing? Forgiveness?

"Cosa c'è che non va, Sorella?" He shook his head but offered, "you may confess... Qual è il tuo peccato?"

A sob caught in her throat.

Her knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor in front of him. The weight of everything came crashing down on her - her prayers, her punishments, her guilt and confusion - all at once, she had finally fallen to pieces. 

Her hands she believed to be just, were no longer, as she kneaded the fabric of her habit in her lap, all before a man she didn't know if she should be asking for absolution from or not. 

"I- I don't know." She gasped, shaking her head as she stared at the floor. 

Her words spilled forward in desperation, raw and unapologetic, "I don't know - I don't know - I don't know."

She had done everything she was supposed to have done. She repented, and prayed until her knees bruised from kneeling. She had been punished, emotionally and physically. She obeyed the words of her Reverend Mother and the word of God - but, He never answered back. 

She suffered, and for what? 

To be martyred? To be shunned and be blamed for heresy? 

She had done nothing wrong. 

Terzo furrowed his brow, his lips parting to say something but she began again.

"My prayers, Father, my prayers are never answered," she mourned, "Every night. Every morning. Every waking hour, I am haunted by my wrongdoings."

Her words were shaky as she tried desperately to get her tears under control - but she firmly meant everything she said. 

"A-and I don't even know what my wrongdoings are!" 

There it was. She was beginning to admit how lost she was.

"The other nuns, they fear me, they say my soul is tainted - that... That I'm marked by the devil, that I've fallen into temptation." She was baring her soul to him completely. 

She had never said any of this aloud. Not to her Reverend Mother, not in confession, not even to herself. And now, she couldn't stop. 

"I. I have these dreams... Unholy dreams, full of sin and debauchery... A-and I... I enjoy it, I never pull away, I-" She looked up to him with pleading eyes.

"They tell me you are Him," she shook her head, looking for reassurance she wasn't sure she'd get, "T-that you are the serpent that offers me the apple - the deceiver." 

He crouched down in front of her, slow and deliberate, meeting her at eye level. He took her hands in his  - not to claim, not to take, but simply to hold. To share his concern and care for her. 

"Please, Father," she struggled to say it, "tell me it isn't true. Tell me that you are not Him." 

Terzo exhaled softly, seeing how deeply she was burdened - how tormented she was by her sorrows. He wanted to cry with her, for her. 

"Sorella," he began gently, rubbing his thumbs soothingly over her bruised knuckles, "(y/n)... You have done nothing wrong." 

He wasn't dismissing her pleas, but he didn't confirm them either. He simply let the words exists, hanging between them untouched. 

(Y/n) shook her head in disbelief. No one had told her that she wasn't in the wrong, that her acts weren't blasphemous. 

She didn't know what to say and so she just sat before him and cried. 

"Shhh," Terzo soothed, pulling her softly towards himself. "You have been told so many things, haven't you? You have been taught to fear your own heart, or face the wrath of God, hmm?" 

She clung onto his shirt, sobbing into his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her in nothing but care. This lost little lamb had wandered far from her flock, but he would be her shepherd, and he would guide her right. 

"Then why," she sniffled, "why do I feel this way if I have done nothing wrong?" 

He sighed, his voice warm and smooth as honey, "some might call that guilt." 

She moved back slightly, her lashes wet with tears as she looked at him, unaware of how she was practically sitting in his lap. 

"But," he began, "your feelings of guilt, they don't always mean you have done something wrong, si?"

He looked over her hands again. "You did not do this to yourself, I know... Your guilt, it has been taught to you. It has been beaten into you." 

(Y/n)'s breath was shaky as he held her hands up between the two of them. 

"Every time you doubt, you disobey, you feel, you... desire,"  his voice was still gentle, but something darker was beginning to slither its way out. 

"You are hit. You are told to beg for forgiveness - to pray until you are freed, but to no avail. You wake up one day and you are lost. You are scared, and that God that you once found solace in isn't answering you anymore." Terzo's breath was heavier now, like he was angry for her and all of her suffering. 

"My child, my sweet (y/n)," he held her gaze with heaviness, "that is not faith. That is control." 

(Y/n) shook in his arms, frightened of the way his tone had shifted. It wasn't as soft as it had been, it was damning. And the way he looked through her, like he had personally seen and felt all of the ways she had been suffering - it was terrifying. 

It was terrifying because she knew he was right, and she was too afraid to admit it. 

"So tell me, Sorella," He whispered, his breath hot against her ear as he leaned into her. 

Her own breath hitched, her hands tightening into the fabric of his shirt as she let herself lean into him. 

"Will you let me help you?" He pulled back, running his a finger along her jaw and using it to tilt her chin to meet his gaze, "wouldst thou like to live deliciously?" 

She felt a tear escape and run down her cheek, her lips parting to say something - anything - eventually it came to her as easily as it had been to confess to him.

"Y-yes..." 

Terzo's thumb caught the tear that ran along her skin, smoothing it away from her cheek. He smiled, gentle and kind, welcoming her into his embrace without another word said. 

He planted a soft kiss on her forehead, reverent and safe. 

(Y/n) clutched him tighter, her eyes fluttering shut at his touch, a soft breath escaping her lips as he hummed in approval pressing his lips to her cheek. 

The deep, warm, ache she would feel from her dreams - from her longing - traveled through her body.

The way she pressed her legs together, the way her skin flushed warm, and her pulse quickened.

The way she didn't understand what was happening to her, her sweet innocence... The feeling was intoxicating for both of them. 

Terzo let his hands wander gently along her back, his lips just barely grazing over hers. 

Her breath shuddered as his hand slid up and moved to cradle her neck. Slow and deliberate he tilted his head slightly and guided her mouth to his. 

There is no forcing, no claiming, only gentle grounding - in the same way he had held her hands. 

The kiss is soft, ever reverent as they melt against each other - the final stroke of a quill against parchment, her name signed in surrender. 

The sun had risen over the hillside, shining golden light through the open balcony and blanketing them in its warm glow.

Wind from the morning canyon breeze crashed against them, sweeping away with it (y/n)s hesitations. 

Terzo's lips moved gently, coaxing and teaching while he held her in his arms, his hands sliding lower, pulling her closer, guiding her into him. 

She gasped against him, still holding him tight whilst he admired her hunger that began to cloud her innocence. 

Her lips moved against his, no longer following but responding. 

It sent shivers through his body the way she whimpered against him, how excited she must be to this new feeling. 

He could feel it in the way she kissed back, clumsy and endearing. In the way she grabbed tightly onto his shirt and pressed herself against him, not knowing what to do with her body. 

He sighed into her, knowing he needed to stop himself from going any further. He wouldn't be able to stop himself if they kept at it, and he knew she wasn't ready for that yet. 

Poor, sweet thing. She didn't have a clue to what her body was asking her to do. 

He slowed his kiss, letting his lips linger against hers a moment longer before pulling away just slightly. 

His hands that had wandered far too low glided back up her back, his hands splayed in a comforting hold. 

(Y/n) panted softly, their foreheads resting against each others as she sought out another kiss. 

Terzo smiled and laughed gently, granting her a small and quick taste before pulling back again. "Piano, amore... There is no rush." 

She bit her lip, her breath slowing, the room growing quiet save for the light breeze moving through the balcony. 

What had she done? This was wrong... 

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and her tight clutch on Terzo's shirt relaxed as she scooted herself back. 

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

Terzo shook his head, smiling as he reached out to cup her cheek in his hand. "Sorella, you have nothing to be sorry for. You have done nothing wrong." He assured her. 

She nodded meekly, her hands returning to her lap to grab at the fabric of her habit. 

The guilt was growing in her chest, the tight, uncomfortable feeling making her want to grab her rosary and beg for forgiveness. 

It would take time - Terzo knew - for her to come to terms with everything that had happened and her new feelings and emotions, but he would only be patient with her.

He would be there for her when the time was right, like a good shepherd should be for his lost little lamb. 

"I know you are tired," he said, still holding his hand against her, "come rest." 

She nodded again, letting him lead her towards his bed. 

Comfortable, inviting, much bigger than her own bed, (y/n) wasn't sure what to do with herself once he sat her down. 

He looked her over, she seemed uncomfortable in her new situation - understandable - but, he wouldn't have it. 

"Here," he broke the silence moving towards a dresser that sat across from the bed, beginning to rummage through a drawer. 

"Its clean, and I promise it will be much softer than your habit." He walked back to her, holding out a worn cotton button-down. 

(Y/n) reached out, hesitant. "I shouldn't..." 

Terzo smiled, "it's only a shirt, amore. Nothing more." He pushed it gently towards her. 

She fought against her irrational mind before reaching back out to take it. 

He nodded in approval and then turned, walking out onto the balcony, leaning over the stone railing to watch the morning unfold - to give her privacy. 

(Y/n) stood back up, quietly slipping her veil from her head. She unfastened the rope around her waist, and bent down to take off her sandals. Looking at the shirt that laid on the bed once more, she let her fingers trail down to the hem of her tunic before sliding it over herself. 

For the first time in years she watched herself naked - except for her simple cotton panties and the rosary she still wore - in the mirror that sat on the dresser across from the bed. 

Her hair down, her skin exposed to the light of morning, she didn't see the novitiate she had seen in the mirror before. 

She saw a woman. Someone in charge of her own life. Someone who was turning her faith inwards on herself. 

She picked up the shirt and put it on slowly, savoring the way it smelled like the gentle priest who had just handed her the forbidden fruit which she had taken willingly. 

She let her hand trail over her rosary, watching herself in the mirror for one last moment. 

Clutching the crucifix and the fabric of Father Emeritus' shirt, she wondered, would she ever be able to convince herself to feel shame for what she had done? 

She whispered quietly, staring deeply into her own reflection, "for I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate." 

Chapter Text

The abbey was waking up. 

The sun was continuing its rise, warming the earth below while an early-spring breeze chilled the air ever so slightly. 

Terzo had tucked (y/n) into his bed, assuring with the most gentle of hands that she felt safe and comfortable. 

The way she clutched to her rosary, wearing his shirt while he leaned over her. 

Oh, it was so poetic. She was such a doll. 

He wanted nothing more than to spoil her rotten - to show her all of the pleasures of life. 

She grew sleepy quickly, she had cried, had bore her soul to him on top of all of her internal struggles, which alone was exhausting in itself. 

He felt deliciously vain over the fact that she felt comfortable enough to come to him - to fall asleep in his bed, to wear his clothes, to let him taste the purity of her lips that had only whispered prayers before. 

Watching her sleep, her cheeks still stained red from her tears, he couldn't help himself from brushing a soft hand against her face before leaving the bedside, making sure she had plenty of blankets. 

Her corruption would be glorious. 

Terzo finished tidying himself up quietly as she slept. Combing back his hair, tucking in and buttoning up his tab collar, rolling his down his sleeves and buttoning them at the wrist. Mouthwash, a dab or two of cologne on the back of his neck, and a quick admiration of his reflection. 

Now, he was ready to begin his day. 

He snuck one final look at (y/n) before heading out the door, "dormi bene, Sorella." He whispered softly, shutting the door as quietly as he could. 

He made his way downstairs, passing Brothers and Sisters that greeted him with morning salutations. 

The main hallway was alive with conversation as siblings made their way in and out, coming and going from breakfast, some going back to bed, others ready to enjoy their day outside.

It was Sunday, after all. A day for rest. 

Terzo passed through one of the archways in the hall, making his way out to join his brothers for breakfast as he usually did every morning. 

Underneath a large pergola, lined and draped with blooming wisteria were round tables filled with Brothers and Sisters beginning their days. Lively conversation, the clanging of spoons in coffee cups and forks on plates, all made for a most welcoming atmosphere. 

A table near the corner of the pergola, half in the shade, half baking in the sun sat his older brothers. 

Primo, an older man, sat with a book, his hair neatly tied back in a braid. He wore glasses that sat at the edge of is nose whilst he read, sitting on the side of the table that baked in the sun - his typical hot black tea steaming on the table, left untouched. 

Secondo, the second oldest, sat with a cigarette, his first coffee almost gone. And unlike the eldest, he sat in the shade, enjoying the way the cool air felt. 

Terzo, the youngest, sat across from them. No formal greeting, this was a ritual. Something that happened every morning. 

Before getting too comfortable, he reached across the table and snatched the cigarette that sat loosely between Secondo's fingers. 

Taking a slow drag, he exhaled with a growing smirk. 

"You're going to kill us all with your secondhand smoke the way you go through these." 

Secondo exhaled through his nose, plucking it right back out of Terzo's hand. 

"Then don't breathe."

Primo hummed to himself, looking over the pages of his book before going right back to reading. 

Terzo helped himself to the pitcher of coffee on the table, filling his cup before grabbing some toast and jam, and relaxing back into his chair. 

Primo looked up from his book again, "you didn't invite your guest to dine with us?"

Terzo smirked against the rim of his cup. 

"Guest?" Secondo questioned, putting the end of his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table. 

"She is sleeping." Terzo said plainly, as if he expected no further questions. 

Secondo chuckled, it was that kind of guest. "Ah, which lucky Sister had the pleasure of spending a night of ecstasy with Papa?" 

Terzo shook his head, taking a bite of his toast. 

"No, no, fratello. It was nothing like that." 

Primo scoffed, putting his book down and taking off his glasses. "Really?"  

"Really!" Terzo defended himself, "do you two only see me as some animal?" 

The older brothers looked at each other, a silent yes passing between them. 

"Ah, vaffanculo." He rolled his eyes, "do you remember the sweet little novitiate I was telling you about? The one the cardinal was getting so worked up about?"

Secondo tilted his gaze upwards, trying to remember. 

"It was about a month ago, I ran into her at the market? Saint Magdalene's convent?"

"Ah... Si, si, I remember." 

Terzo nodded enthusiastically, almost thanking his brother for remembering. 

"Well, she showed up this morning," he smiled, feeling that sense of pride again, "poor lamb... She is struggling with her faith, her deep rooted Catholic guilt." 

He said Catholic like it was wrong to say around the abbey. 

"They hit her, you know?"

Secondo and Primo looked disgusted, shaking their heads. 

"I do hope we can trust that she is safe in your care?" Primo said, sliding his finger along his book like he was thinking about picking it up again. 

"Ovviamente - she is safe, warm, completely untouched." Terzo assured, taking another sip from his coffee. 

Completely untouched? Now, that wasn't all true was it.

Terzo looked around at the other tables before leaning in towards his brothers, "ma, ascolta. Keep this between us for now, si? The cardinal has been all pissy lately, I'm sure he hasn't been getting laid." 

Primo sighed, rolling eyes. Deciding finally to pick his book back up. "You are insufferable."

"And what then, when he finds out?" Secondo asked, amusement flickering in his eyes. 

Terzo shrugged, "eh, then he finds out."

And surly as they spoke of the devil, Copia entered their little breakfast scene. 

He looked tired, like he had been up all night or had at least had restless sleep. He took the empty seat next to Primo, setting his newspaper down on the table. 

"Buongiorno." He spoke softly.

"Si, buongiorno, cardinal," Terzo mused, "you look... Well rested." 

Copia's shoulders softened as he looked at Terzo with an utterly unamused expression. 

Terzo looked at Secondo, giving him a light elbow in his side. The poor cardinal, they loved to tease him. 

"Say, Copia," he began, "have you been seeing anyone recently?"

Copia couldn't help but roll his eyes as he poured himself a cup of coffee, adding just a little too much sugar. 

"What kind of question is that?" 

"Well, we were just reminiscing on our nights past, and we all agree," Terzo looked between his brothers, "that you might benefit from being fucked. We think it might improve your mood?" 

The three snickered, even Primo couldn't help himself. 

Copia choked on his coffee, and then shot them all a glare. "Well. That really isn't any of your business now, is it?"

Secondo leaned over to Primo, whispering, but unfortunately - for Terzo - still too loud, "maybe we should give him the virgin." 

The whole table went quiet. 

"The what?" Copia shook his head. 

Terzo groaned and pushed Secondo in his chair. "Idiota! Thanks." 

Secondo mockingly covered his mouth like he had just realized what he had said. 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Copia pressed further, his coffee and newspaper now forgotten.

Primo looked up from his book, sighing through his nose, and Secondo began lighting another cigarette. 

Together in perfect unison, they said plainly - 

"The novitiate."

Copia sat there, blinking, still a little unsure of what they were all up to.

"The novitiate?" He repeated, looking over each of them, stopping when he turned to is right to look at Terzo - who was hiding a growing smirk behind his coffee cup. 

And finally, it hit him.

"The novitiate?!" His voice rose to a slightly higher pitch, incredulous, "from Saint Magdalene's?"

"Can you believe it? He finally caught on." Terzo exclaimed, his voice dripping in mock surprise. 

Copia exhaled sharply and Terzo just waved him off. 

"Don't look so worried, Copia, she only arrived a few hours ago - on her own freewill, mind you."

Copia's lips parted as if he were about to say something more but Terzo cut him off, "and yes, before you ask - because I know you were going to - she is still as pure and untouched as the first snow of winter."

Copia scoffed, "Okay? Well. I wasn't going to ask."

"You were thinking it." Secondo 'whispered' again to Primo, smoke exhaling from his nose as he snorted. 

Copia pinched the bridge of his nose, indulging in a deep sigh. 

"Fine." 

"Fine?" Terzo quirked an eyebrow. 

"I mean," he began, "what the hell do you want me to do about it? She came back on her own. It was her decision." 

Terzo smiled like he himself was the devil. "See? It isn't so hard to accept fate now, is it." He gestured with his coffee cup still in his hands. 

"Fate?" Copia let out a deadpan laugh, "have you thought maybe she is just a lost girl who doesn't know what she wants?"

"Well, she must want something if she came back, no?" Terzo shrugged lazily. 

"Just relax a little. She is safe, and I am perfectly capable of restraining myself." He said proudly, but soon narrowed his eyes teasingly at the cardinal, "is it a crush you have, cardinal? You do seem awfully preoccupied by her."

Copia scoffed for the second time in their conversation, "a crush? You are delusional." 

"Maybe," Terzo hummed, "you just seem incredibly tense for someone who doesn't care." 

He pointed out the way that Copia was gripping his newspaper now, unknowingly wringing it tightly in his hands. 

Copia groaned and flattened the paper back on the table, putting his hands in his lap. 

"I do care, I was just looking out for this poor wayward soul - b-but that's besides the point, never mind-" he was digging his grave deeper without realizing it, and so, flustered, he waved them off and stood from his chair. 

Primo and Secondo exchanged knowing looks, the kind that made Copia's blood pressure rise. 

"Oh come on!" Terzo sighed, trying to stop him. "I was just teasing, you didn't even eat anything." 

Copia tucked his chair in and snatched the wrinkled newspaper back from the table. "I'll eat later, I have work to do." 

"Well, if you see our dear Sorella, don't be so rude to her this time, si?" Terzo called after him as he began to walk away. 

"Do you ever stop talking?" Copia responded. 

"No!" Terzo smirked, turning back to his brothers. 

Settling back into their breakfast routine, Primo continued to read, Secondo gently nursed his second cigarette, and Terzo poured himself another cup of coffee. 

"Do you think he's going back to his room to masturbate?" Secondo asked, flicking ash into the ashtray. 

Terzo looked at his brother in shock, "Secondo," he exclaimed, like he was surprised he had even said it.

"Yes." Primo replied, full attention still on his book. 

Terzo just laughed to himself, nodding like Secondo's comment and Primo's acknowledgment confirmed something for him.

He took a slow sip from his new coffee, stretching lazily as he set the cup back down.

"Ah, now-" he sighed, completely relaxed. 

"Should we talk about the Equinox?"

In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. 

Then God said, "Let there be light"; and there was light. 

At first, there was only warmth. Warmth and light - soft and heavy, like sinking into something entirely endless, like the world had finally wrapped her arms around her, finally allowing her to rest. 

(Y/n) stirred, her eyes still blissfully shut, inhaling slowly. 

The air was rich with that sweetness she had only known in dreams - heady with an incense or warm cologne, aged wood, and a used fire place. A scent that was so familiar she could almost taste the way the embers from a dying fire smelled. 

She turned over in the bed, sinking into the soft mattress and pillows, wrapping herself in heavy blanket. 

Awareness began to creep in, slow at first, but then all at once. 

Her eyes began to open, hesitantly, blinking rapidly at the way the light was filtering in through the room. 

"Where..." Her voice was hoarse from sleep, her eyebrows knitting together with confusion. 

There had been no morning bells, no whispers of prayer or chants from outside of her bedroom, no cold air that pressed through the old stone of the convent walls.

Simply because, she wasn't in her bedroom. She wasn't at the convent. 

She sat upright, the feeling of fabric against her skin loose and unfamiliar. 

She looked down on herself, holding her rosary tight. 

It wasn't her habit, her night gown, or any other piece of clothing she knew, it was his shirt.  

The entirety of the early morning came rushing back to her - no it hadn't been a dream. 

The crying and pleading, she still felt the sting in her eyes. The way she had utterly spilled her soul and heart, the deep ache of regret bloomed in her chest. The way Father Emeritus had been so warm, understanding, and nothing but gentle, she still felt his lips upon hers. 

Her fingers left her rosary as she slowly lifted them to her lips, smoothing the bottom one like she could still feel the heat of his mouth on her. 

She dropped her hand quickly and shut her eyes tightly as if that would will away any image of this morning. 

She slipped from the large, low bed, kneeling at its side. Clutching back her rosary, and her eyes still squeezed tight. 

"Lord, guide me, for I do not know the path I walk. Forgive me, for my heart is restless, my sprit unsteady. Keep me in your light, lest I fall into darkness. Let me not be led astray-"

Her words slowed as she stopped all together. Her eyes opening back up, she looked at the crucifix in her hands and let it go again. 

The words - prayer - felt heavy as something deep inside of her was already telling her the truth that she was still fighting to believe. 

For she did know the path that she walked, and it was because of her restless heart and unsteady spirit that she was here. 

She shook her head, she wasn't ready to reject her feelings of old, and she wasn't ready to fully embrace her new ones either. She would hold onto her thoughts and feelings, allowing herself to come back to them later, keeping them at her side like an old friend she wasn't ready to say goodbye to yet...

She sat back on the floor, taking a deep sigh as she tried to calm her nerves. 

Scanning over the room, she landed on the bed bench that sat at the end of the bed. On top, there were two options of robes that were folded neatly under a note. 

She got up and went to look over it.

Sweetly, it read: Mia cara, there is no rush. You are free to rest, free to take what you need. My home is yours. Please indulge yourself in what you would like, the outside world awaits you whenever you are ready to step out into it. - Father Emeritus. 

(Y/n) found herself smiling. He was awfully too kind to her, no pressure, no strings attached. She was free to do what she wanted. 

Her fingers smoothed over the parchment before she set the note back down, going to the clothes he had laid out for her. 

She picked up the first gown, the fabric spilling like water through her fingers - light, airy, incredibly indulgent. 

Ivory-white, it was flowy, made for movement. The waist was accentuated by a subtle cinch, just enough to give it shape without constraint. The neckline dipped off the shoulders, something that made it feel sensual and effortless. 

(Y/n) ran her hands over the fabric, admiring the fine stitchwork and detail. It was beautiful, but perhaps, too much. 

She set it down and grabbed the other one. 

Cream-colored, almost a soft beige, this fabric was heavier - a soft and worn linen. With a high waist and gentle pleats that cascaded to the floor, it was something that didn't beg for attention but still felt refined. 

Draped over the shoulders were cape-like additions that made her feel less exposed and still modest in her new surroundings. 

She held it against her chest, letting out a slow breath as she had already decided. This one felt safe, felt like her. 

But, before she could dress, a bath felt much needed. 

She crossed the room and moved into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a soft click. 

And for good measure - she locked it. 

Twice. 

The bathroom was grand but personal. Low golden light came from the sconces on the walls, shining over the dark marble and gorgeous bath that sat in the middle of the room - the bath much too deep and wide, something meant for indulgence rather than function. 

She let the faucet run, steam rising from the hot water that began to pour out. 

There were a few bottles of bath oils, salts, and herbs that sat near the tub but as far as she could see, there wasn't any soap. 

No worries. She could surly look for some, Father Emeritus wouldn't mind... Would he?

"I'm just looking for soap." She whispered to herself, feeling like she was greatly intruding on his personal space. 

She moved to the counter and sink, maybe she would find what she was looking for in some of the drawers. 

Opening the first drawer slowly and quietly - worried as if someone might hear her - all she found was what she assumed she might find in a mans bathroom. 

A straight razor laid against it's leather strop for sharpening, a comb, hair product, shaving cream, a few neatly stacked hand towels. 

Okay, no soap. 

She opened another drawer, still not surprised by what she was finding. 

Toothpaste, a gently used toothbrush, deodorant, cologne, aftershave. 

She looked over her shoulder like she was expecting someone to be there. 

No one was, of course. 

Gently, she picked up the bottle of cologne and uncorked it. She inhaled the scent just a tiny amount. It was definitely his, it smelled exactly like him - sandalwood, lavender, maybe a hint of patchouli. Overall warm and... Erotic.  

She shook her head, like something had just come over her, "Dio, what am I doing?" She put the bottle back quickly and shut the drawer. 

Still, no soap. 

Looking into the mirror the reflection of a tall cabinet shown behind her. If soap was anywhere, soap would be there. 

She went to it and opened the first shelf. 

With a sigh of relief she reached in and grabbed out the bottle of liquid soap. Now she was ready to bathe. 

But... Lotion would be nice after the water. Surly, he had lotion somewhere. 

She set the soap next to the bath, testing the temperature of the water, turning on some cold before going to open the second shelf of the cabinet. 

There. 

A bottle of lotion. She took it off of the shelf, closing the cabinet door slowly but something stopped her. There were other bottles in there. Unlabeled. Different types of lotion, different scents?

Curiosity was beginning to get the best of her. 

I'm not snooping. Just, weighing my options. 

She tried to justify her actions. 

The other bottles didn't have a pump like the lotion she had taken before, but she thought nothing of it. She grabbed one and screwed off the top, bringing it to her nose she inhaled. 

Oh. 

It was just some kind of body oil, scented like rose, probably extra to refill the bottle next to the bath. 

She put that one back and grabbed the other, screwing off the lid. 

She brought it to her nose and immediately pulled it away, her nose scrunching like she was offended by the way it smelled. 

But, it didn't really smell like anything. Maybe a hint of bitter plastic, almost a rubbery scent. She tilted the bottle ever so slightly into her hand. 

Thick, clear liquid pooled in her palm as she set the bottle down and went to move her free fingers along the viscous substance. 

It was slippery, almost slimy, and became sticky as it started to dry on her skin. 

Whatever it was she did not like the feeling of it. She put the bottle back and went to rinse her hands in the bath water, the slick of the liquid hard to wash off. 

Okay, no more looking.

She thought as she looked into the bath. 

Wait. A towel. 

She got back up and went to the cabinet, the open bottom shelf had plenty of clean plush towels waiting to be used. She grabbed one, but her gaze fell back on the open shelf that she hadn't finished closing. 

Next to the other bottles she had just gone through was a wooden box, something you might find that held jewelry. 

She stared at it, and she felt like the box stared right back. 

"Come on, (y/n)..." She groaned quietly to herself. What was she doing? Being an absolute menace of a guest, going through her hosts' things... 

A moment of silence passed and then - she fell into the temptation.

Snatching the box from the shelf, she held it carefully in her hands. She bit her lip, tapping the wood with her fingers, really debating if she should open it or not. 

But, she did. 

The lid creaked open and she found herself staring at its contents with a furrowed brow. 

It was filled, lined neatly with little foil packets. 

She pulled one out and inspected it. The foil was black, not labeled, nothing else to it. Nothing to indicate exactly what she had got her hands on. 

But then, something clicked. 

Her grip tightened slightly, feeling the round shape inside, the way it flexed under the pressure of her hand. 

Her breath hitched and she dropped the foil packet back into the box, slamming the lid shut. 

Her cheeks burned from embarrassment as she shoved the box back into the cabinet, finally closing the shelf doors. 

Catholic teachings had been very clear about such things. Sex was not about pleasure - not for a woman at least - it was about reproduction. And birth control got in the way of that. 

She clutched the towel she had grabbed and stomped back over the the bath, turning off the water. 

Oh, Lord. She needed to stop touching things. She needed to cleanse herself immediately. 

She dropped the towel on the floor and unbuttoned the shirt she was wearing, stepping out of her panties and practically throwing herself into the steaming water. 

She submerged herself fully, letting out a deep sigh once she came back up, wiping the water from her face. 

She let the heat press around her, full of relaxation and comfort. 

She washed herself, washed her hair, and she felt clean. 

She was not thinking about anything she had just found. She was not thinking about what it meant. 

She was not-

Her gaze fell to the floor. The floor where the Father's shirt laid crumpled and discarded in her chaos of a rush to get into the bath. 

She stared at it, a small part of heart tugging her back into herself, telling her she shouldn't have worn it in the first place. 

She shouldn't have fallen asleep in it, all wrapped up in his scent and the lingering warmth of his presence. 

(Y/n) swallowed hard, allowing herself another deep sigh. 

She was not thinking about it. 

She was NOT. 

Dipping herself once more in the warmth of the water, she came back out and reached for the towel. Bath water dripping from her fingers. 

Looking at his shirt again, she frowned a little. 

It would be awfully rude of her to just leave it there, expecting him to clean up after her. 

She stood in the tub, the towel clutched against her chest as she leaned over to let the water drain. Stepping out to the warm tile she dried herself, wrapped herself in the oversized towel and picked up the shirt. 

Her eyes landed directly on the door half open in front of her. 

Ah. A closet. 

Shirts belong in the closet. 

She took a slow step forward. She was not going to snoop. 

No. She was not. 

"Just put the shirt away." She said to herself, like it was a complex task. 

She reached for the closest drawer once she stepped inside.

Could she have just set it on top of the little dresser?

Yes.

Could she have just left it nicely folded on the bed?

Yes. 

Did she do either of those things?

No.

Pulling the drawer, her mouth fell open as she let out a small gasp, her eyes going wide once she saw what was inside-

This was not a drawer for neatly tucked away shirts, socks or any other pure garment. 

This was a drawer filled with lace, with silk - soft, delicate fabrics put away with care. Each piece small, intimate and undeniably feminine. 

Women's underwear. An entire collections worth. 

(Y/n)s face went hot as she dropped the shirt to the ground. 

Did Father Emeritus wear women's underwear? 

Were they gifts?

Oh, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit... Did they belong to someone?

My... They were pretty. 

"(Y/n)!" She yelped at herself, clutching her rosary that still sat around her neck. 

What a horrible and lustful thing to cross her mind. 

She huffed, picking the shirt up from the ground, it was time to just close the drawer and leave the shirt on the bed. 

She stepped a little closer, hesitating just a moment before she fully closed it, her fingers lingering on the handle. 

Pushed to the side and hiding below some of the panties something else caught her eye. 

Oh, she was in too deep now, she couldn't just not look.

And she wanted to. 

She moved to the side a silky, pink little thing, and what she found only confused her further. 

Leather.

Lots of leather. 

Straps, buckles, something that looked like a whip, a riding crop.  

He has horses. 

She lied to herself, not a clue what she was looking at - but she knew it wasn't innocent. 

Her entire body felt like it was on fire, her heart beating out of her chest. 

She slammed the drawer shut - finally - and closed the closet door on her way out. 

She needed to dress and get outside for some fresh air. 

(Y/n) had fled back to the bedroom, shutting the bathroom door behind her like it would shield any and all temptation. 

She took a few calming breaths to herself, trying to erase everything she had seen from her mind, but to no avail, the images and questions would hang heavy there for sometime. 

She watched herself get dressed through the little mirror on the dresser across from the bed - also where she had decided to fold up the shirt and lay it out. 

Her sandals still sat on the other side of the bed along with her bag and the little amount of things she had brought with her. 

She sat down, strapping on her shoes, considering for a moment if she should put her little veil on or not. 

Her hair had almost completely dried, and so, she decided yes. It was just another part of her that felt so natural, and that normalcy - though she held onto it only by a thread - was a comfort in this new world she found herself stepping into. 

When she walked out of the bedroom door, she looked back into the room briefly. 

So much had happened today already, events of the early morning felt like a lifetime ago. And now, she was here in new clothes, a changing heart, ready to step outside. 

Walking through the halls, she took her time. There was no longer an underlying feeling of needing to rush her day, always being late for something. 

It was easy, and she was enjoying that feeling. 

She stepped into the main hallway - much more alive than she had seen it before. Brothers and Sisters greeted her with kind nods and Buon pomeriggio, and she graciously acknowledged them back. 

Something about it lit a spark in her heart, it made her feel the same way she had felt at the farmers market. 

Excited and free. 

The wind and sun - her dear friends - beckoned her out to the courtyards. But, she stayed wandering back and forth through the loggias, soon finding herself in a quieter place of the hall and the abbey itself. 

There was another large archway facing towards the south that (y/n) found herself stopping in front of. A back entrance, just like the one that welcomed you in at the front. 

She peaked through, snaking an arm around one of the large pillars. 

To her right she saw a large pond, a small waterfall feature slowly trickling water back into it. Little birds hopped around the moving water - flying back and forth from a big old evergreen oak. 

Shaded under the tree was a nice little bench. The perfect, quiet, little spot she imagined spending the rest of her day at. 

She sighed contently. 

To her left was Cardinal Copia. 

Cardinal Copia.

Cardinal Copia?

Her plans she had been so excited about seemed to dissipate immediately as she looked at the man spending his own time alone. Standing in the shade of another tree, like he was about to leave but wasn't quite ready to put down the book he was reading.  

Lord.

Maybe he was going to leave soon. It looked like he might. 

Every interaction she had, had with him thus far had been entirely unpleasant. He was cold, unwelcoming, and most definitely smug. She really didn't want to ruin the rest of her day dealing with such an attitude. 

Copia had noticed her out of the corner of his eye, and he stood there pretending he hadn't seen her. 

Fuck. 

Maybe she was going to leave soon. It looked like she might. 

He had been such a prick to her, not intentionally, but because of the circumstances. And of course he felt bad, she didn't know any better. 

He glanced up from his book, willing to try and sneak another look towards her. When he did, he watched her painfully try and hide herself behind the large pillar she had been standing next to. 

He closed his book, a small smile growing on his face. 

It was endearing really, how else would he have expected her to react when she saw him?

He made his way towards her. 

Nervously, (y/n) peaked her way around the right side of the pillar.

He was gone, thank the Lord. 

She turned her back against the cool stone, sliding herself down and sighed in relief.

"Do you plan on hiding behind here all day, Sorella?" 

(Y/n) nearly jumped back up to her feet, her head turning so fast it felt like she might have given herself whiplash. 

Copia stood at her left, looking down at her with a playful smile on his face, his hands behind his back holding his book. 

"H-hiding? I wasn't hiding." 

"No?" Copia asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"No." (y/n) stood herself back up, facing the cardinal with this new found confidence she didn't know how to place. 

"I was just admiring the architecture." She said, patting the pillar she still stood next to. 

"Ah, I see." Copia closed his eyes and nodded. "I can see how this smooth stone pillar might pique your interest." 

(Y/n) nodded back, "yes..." she said slowly. 

He hummed, putting his own hand on the pillar, smoothing his fingers along it. "And surly, someone of your intellect and admiration for such structures, must know a great deal about petrology too?"

"Oh, sure!" (y/n) shrugged, "you know... Minerals, and rocks..." 

She turned her head slightly, scrunching up her face in the midst of her own confusion. 

What was she doing? 

Copia smiled, he had let her dangle long enough. 

"I do not blame you for hiding, you know?" 

(Y/n) lifted her gaze back to his, her lips parting like she wanted to continue defending herself - she could talk nonsense about things she didn't know anything about for another thirty minutes, why not?

"I was not very welcoming when we first met," he admitted, "I would not want to see me again either, if I were you." 

"You don't like me very much, do you?" (y/n) let the question barely come out of her mouth. She barely knew the man, why should she care at all?

Copia's brow furrowed and his smile fell. "N-no, no. I did not say that, Sorella." 

"Look. It's a long story, perhaps a story for another day... I simply-" he tilted his gaze up trying to look for the right words, "simply was just... Looking out for you." 

(Y/n)s own expression softened. 

He was being sincere, there was true regret in his voice. Perhaps his coldness was never out of malice. 

For now, all she said - all she could say, was -

"Thank you..." 

Copia nodded once, a gentle smile on his face. 

And, for the first time, a sweet and quiet peace settled between them. 

(Y/n) thought of something else she could say. Seeing his change of attitude made her think they could probably have a pleasant conversation. 

But, someone else was more eager to begin the conversation than she. 

"Sorella!" 

That gentle, warm voice called out from a ways down the hall - (y/n) and Copia turning to see Terzo waving at them. 

Oh. Please, God.

Not after everything she had found.

Not now after she has barely had anytime to process. 

She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as he approached them - more excitement in his step than she had ever seen. 

Per favore, Dio, per favore!

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, finding solace in clutching her rosary, as she awaited the inevitable.

Chapter Text

Copia was by no means an impatient man, but in this moment, he felt a strong desire for solitude and silence - his patience wearing thin as he watched Terzo bound towards them with light in his steps and mischief in his eyes. 

Solitude and silence were not two things in Terzo's vocabulary. 

He hadn't even had time to properly and kindly reintroduce himself. And, sweet girl, she had been too kind to accept his apology. 

He was just starting to get somewhere with her. A clean slate, a light and easy conversation. The potential of a budding relationship. Strictly professional, of course. 

But the moment had shattered. 

Copia gripped his book tighter, cringing at the way Terzo's sickeningly sweet voice rang through the open halls. 

"Sorella!" 

It was too much.

Too warm, too delighted, and far too eager. 

Copia half expected (y/n) to try and retreat back behind the pillar, to shrink underneath Terzo's overbearing presence, to hide the way she had when she saw him in the courtyard not too long before.

He noticed the way she clung to her rosary like it was a lifeline, noticed the way the blush spread across her cheeks. Her breath shuddered as if she were afraid to come face-to-face with Terzo, like she had something on her mind she didn't want to say. 

But, there was some hint of excitement in her eyes.

It was the look of a guilty child that had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar, but had already eaten one or two.

As quickly and as sure as she had let herself fall apart for just a moment, she had composed herself again. 

She lifted her chin and steadied herself with a calming breath. 

Copia noticed, of course he did, and he wondered what the hell had gone on between them so early this morning.

And then he wondered - why should I care?

Terzo was upon (y/n) in moments, sweeping into their space like a warm summer wind - carefree, charming, something that made your smile contagious even if you didn't want it to be. 

Copia saw the way it affected her. 

"Sorella, Sorella," Terzo crooned, his hands sliding down her arms looking her over and admiring her new attire that he had picked just for her, "tu sei bella, mio Dio, piccola."

He clasped (y/n)s hands in his, holding them between their bodies like they were the most delicate treasure he had ever held. 

(Y/n) looked away shyly, a blush tinting her skin so softly, and a lingering smile on her lips. 

Copia wanted to gag.

What was it with Terzo and touching? It was always touching, touching, and more touching. Had he ever managed to have a conversation that didn't involve his hands?

"I have been thinking of you, mia cara." Terzo whispered sweetly, his voice like silk, teasing (y/n) in all of the right ways - completely and utterly enamored with her. 

But why wouldn't he be? 

He had her right where he wanted her.  

Copia watched as she melted into his touch. 

Her eyes all doughy and filled with innocence, the way she dragged her bottom lip against her teeth, the way her skin looked so soft, flushed with an indulgence she didn't know-

He tore his gaze away from her, his grip on his book as tight as he had unknowingly clutched his newspaper this morning.

Terzo was standing closer to her now, his fingers gentle and teasing along her bare arms. "Tell me, Sorella, what do you wish to do for the rest of the day? I am happy to do anything for you..."

Copia felt himself anticipating her response, and something in her body language told him she anticipated it as well - unsure of what she wanted, or too afraid to say it. 

"Oh, well," she began softly, her gaze shifting to the pond that had caught her eye earlier, "I thought watching the birds for awhile sounded nice." 

"The birds?" Terzo repeated, as if he hadn't heard her correctly. 

Copia grinned. 

How pure. Served him right. 

"Si, sit by the pond. It looks relaxing." (y/n) reiterated.

Terzo smirked, his eyes narrowing. 

Copia knew that look. He was scheming. Scheming of some way to make this more than just watching birds, and sweet (y/n) was oblivious to his plotting. 

"I did say I would do anything for you didn't I?" 

Terzo wrapped his arm around her, ready to lead her away. 

Up until now, Copia had been treated as nothing more than a second thought in their presence - he might as well had been a a potted plant the way Terzo had completely ignored the fact that he was standing right there. 

The audacity of it all. 

Copia softened his posture, bring his hands back to his side, tucking his book under one of his arms. "Enjoy your birds, Sorella," he smiled, "perhaps I'll be seeing you around, si?"

(Y/n) hesitated against Terzo's pull, lingering just a little longer. 

She returned his smile - smiling like it cost her absolutely nothing, like she had an endless supply to give. 

"Of course, Cardinal. I look forward to it." 

It was so simple. She carried something he had never known - a peace that made him feel wholly unworthy and yet entirely desperate. 

He cleared his throat and gave her a curt nod before making his way back into the abbey.  

Don't do it. 

He warned himself, considering the thought of looking back. 

Don't. 

But, he did. 

He did, and (y/n) was still there, wrapped in Terzo's arms, her heart fighting against the way her body was responding to his touch. 

She caught his glance and left him with a parting wave.

Copia immediately faced forward again.

What the hell was he doing?

This was all so ridiculous. Here she was, a lost soul, back here of her own freewill. She was naive, clearly. Too kind for her own good. A girl who had spent too much time behind convent walls, believing in all the good of the world and none of the wicked. She barely knew Terzo, and yet there she was melting in his hands...

He scoffed to himself, shaking his head. 

He was not some lovesick fool, swayed by a gentle smile and fleeting glances. He was a man of discipline, a man of structure. 

But, her voice lingered. That soft, simple peace, the same peace that made him feel wholly unworthy and yet entirely desperate - "Of course, Cardinal. I look forward to it." 

Damn her. 

Copia clenched his jaw tight, quickening his pace as if he could walk fast enough to outrun this absurd feeling that was clawing at his chest. 

The gardens here were quiet. Tucked away from the liveliness of the abbey, peaceful and intimately secluded.

The water of the pond lapped at the stone edges, a little breeze moving the water to and froe. The little birds flitting back and forth from the waterfall feature and the big oak that (y/n) and Terzo sat under. 

They sat silent for some time, just enjoying each others company, maybe too afraid to say anything at all. 

Terzo thrived in the quiet - not because he wished to enjoy the peace or make astute observations, but because he could easily fill his presence in the empty space. 

"How are you?" He began, "after everything this morning."

(Y/n) fidgeted, digging her thumb into her palm - running it along her skin in deep soothing strokes. The question was uncomfortable. She wasn't ready to confront herself, wasn't ready to bring those anxieties back up from the place she had left them this morning. 

"I'm alright, Father." She lied. 

Was she alright? After she had slept in his bed, worn his clothes, seen his suggestive things in the bathroom, kissed his lips... 

Was she alright... 

"Terzo." He said.

"Terzo?"

"Si, my name. You do not need to keep calling me Father, if you wish not to." 

(Y/n) nodded hesitantly, "Oh, okay. Sorry... Terzo." 

It felt weird, almost too intimate. His name alone, unadorned without the title that separated them. But then again, what was left of that barrier after everything that had already happened?

Terzo's lips curled into a soft, pleased smile. "You don't need to be sorry." 

She dropped her gaze back to the water, watching the breeze carry ripples across the pond, disappearing before they hit the edge of the other side. It was a distraction, a way to ignore the weight of his attention on her. 

"I meant what I said, you know." 

She turned back to him, "about what?"

His eyes read her, knowing she knew what he meant. "This morning," he said simply. "I meant it when I said I'd take care of you." 

The words sent something of a pleasant feeling through her chest - unwanted, but completely undeniable. 

She shook her head, her gaze back on the pond. "That isn't necessary, Father."

"No?" Terzo tilted his head, trying to see her eyes, studying her. "You fidget when you are uncertain. You avoid my eyes when you lie." 

(Y/n) inhaled sharply, her thumb pressing harder into her palm as she tried to ground herself. 

Slowly, with the most care and precision, Terzo was unwrapping her like she was something so delicate to be gifted. 

"I..." She began, but her words failed her. 

She wasn't at all certain what she would have even said. That he was wrong? That she wasn't uncertain, that she wasn't lying?

Because, she was. 

Terzo shifted closer to her. Not close enough to touch, nor close enough to invade her personal space, but enough that she felt him there. His presence undeniable. 

"Do you want me to stop?" He whispered, his voice softening. 

Her breath shuddered.

This is where she should have redrawn her boundary, reestablished their relationship - the distance between them. This is where she should have remembered who she was, and where she came from - what she was raised to believe. 

But, she shook her head, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement. 

Terzo hummed, a pleased, knowing sound. 

His hand grazed over hers, so featherlight, making her shake with anticipation.

He laughed softly, bringing her hand up to his lips, planting soft kisses along her bruised knuckles. "I barely touch you and you are already undone," he cooed, his voice rich and velvety. 

(Y/n) exhaled another shaky breath. She hadn't noticed that they were so close now, and she didn't know if it had been him or herself that closed the gap. 

She should move. This was wrong. 

But, it felt right. 

And, God, the way he looked into her eyes - like he was waiting, inviting - she felt herself wanting to know what would happen if she gave in. 

His hand readjusted around hers, cradling the back as his lips slid from her knuckles and down to her wrist and forearm. Still adoring her with gentle kisses, nipping and sucking along her sensitive skin. 

(Y/n)s lips parted, the faintest moan escaping as she continued to stare into Terzo's eyes as he kissed around her wrist. 

"Ah," he hummed, pleased that he had just discovered something that she didn't know she's kept hidden for so long. "You like that." 

She swallowed, unsure of what to say, completely frozen in his grasp - but, when he leaned into her, just enough to brush the tip of his nose against her cheek, all thoughts and all inhibitions unraveled. 

"What do you want, Sorella?" he whispered, his voice silky with lust, "will you let me guide you? Will you let me take care of you?" 

Her breath caught as she leaned into him. 

Of course, this is why she stayed, this is why she hadn't moved away from his sweet whispers, his lingering touches. She would more than willingly give herself to him, let him completely take care of her. 

And, when Terzo's lips brushed just barely over the corner of her mouth, she didn't stop him. 

He let his lips hover over her, teasing, waiting - allowing her a final chance to pull away. 

But she didn't, she leaned in. And Lucifer help him, that was all the permission he needed. 

Terzo began kissing her like he had all the time in the world. Slow and patient - a careful press of lips that sent heat curling up (y/n)s spine. 

Her fingers twisted into the fabric of his sleeves, grounding herself as she let him lead, let him take. 

And Terzo, oh. He adored her for it. 

His hand slid up, fingers threading gently through her hair as he guided her closer to deepen the kiss - just enough to taste her, to pull a soft and helpless sound from her throat. 

He groaned at that, the vibrations sending a shiver through her as his other hand moved to her waist, pulling her closer. 

(Y/n) barely registered the sound that escaped her, soft and needy. Something she couldn't have silenced if she wanted to. 

Her mind wandered to her guilty conscious. She should have been overwhelmed, she should be pulling away - but God save her, she wanted him.

And when his tongue flicked over her bottom lip, teasing and coaxing her forward - she let him.

Because in that moment, there were no rules, there was no convent, there was no shame. 

There was only him. 

Only the way his body pressed against hers, solid and warm, the scent of his cologne wrapping around her as if it were something sinful, something indulgent, and something she never wanted to let go of. 

Terzo kissed her thoroughly, exploring her mouth and letting her explore his. Her uncertainty was charming, but the fact that she was trying made him feral. 

He pulled away for the briefest of moments, "No, no, like this, si?" he pulled her back to his mouth, her lips already parted as he taught her through kitten-licking her tongue. 

She sighed into him, her grip tightening on his sleeves. Trying her best to mimic his movements. 

Terzo nodded against her, laughing in spite of himself. What was he doing teaching this sweet little nun such dirty things?

He sucked on her bottom lip, unable to get enough of her - completely insatiable. 

Their kissing grew more insistent, nipping and sucking, coaxing whimpers and groaning from one another.

Terzo was loosing himself, absolutely enthralled by the way she surrendered to him, by the way she let him guide her without hesitation. 

His fingers curled at her waist, keeping her steady, steadying himself - but he was beginning to wonder if he should take her back to his bedroom. 

Just as he wondered, his questions were answered as (y/n) pushed against him, her fingers still grasping his sleeves, and her lips flushed and swollen from his kisses. 

He saw it in her eyes, that glint of shame that was creeping back to her. He took her hands in his, smoothing his thumbs over her knuckles - a silent understanding.

Tell me what you want.

Her voice wavered, but there was resolve in it. "I- I want you to show me the rest of the abbey." 

Terzo smiled. Ah, she was too good. So eager, so tempted, but still fighting to keep her footing. 

But, something about it got him excited. A deep feeling of anticipation, something almost more exciting than the act itself. 

She wasn't just giving herself to him, but she was giving herself to this place - letting him know she intended to stay for a long while. 

"Ah, piccolina, I thought you'd never ask..." 

(Y/n) had seen only parts of the abbey. 

She felt confident in knowing her way along the main hall and how the stairs lead to upper parts of the building that held bedrooms and common areas for all that lived there. 

She had seen a large portion of the gardens, which she admired so much already - the grand trees, fruit and evergreen. The water features, and large brushy herbs and flowers. She felt like she would have no problem spending the rest of her days just wandering around in each of the courtyards. 

Terzo had lead her from the pond, his arm linked with hers as they began their journey back inside. He gestured with his free hand, waving it about or pointing as he explained things he though she might find interesting. 

He explained the open loggias of the main hallways - that they were constructed for an open and welcoming feel. Something out of ancient Roman architecture, and that often the heavy, sheer curtains that lined them were changed to reflect the time of year. 

"They'll be a... Hmm, how do you say? Salmone color. Soon, for the equinox, for spring."  He said. 

He pointed out a wall that hung a large medieval style tapestry. Dark blues, reds, greens, and creams that set a floral environment where animals lived. A unicorn, a stag, rabbits, and birds. He admited he didn't have much to say about it, besides the fact that it has been here since before he was.  

They passed by a group of Brothers and Sisters who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their days. Laughter and chatting amongst them, and polite acknowledgements towards (y/n) and Terzo. 

"Bonasera Papa, bonasera Sorella."  

Terzo waved and (y/n) smiled graciously. 

"They call you Papa?" She asked, looking up to him. 

"Si, that is what they call me here. I am Papa." Terzo said proudly. 

(Y/n) had a growing look of question on her face, "so, you are more than a priest?"

"Something like that." Terzo nodded, continuing on with their tour. 

He lead her into the refectory, long wooden tables sat in the hall, the kitchen tucked away in a separate room that connected. It still smelled strongly of coffees and espressos, hot an exciting, something that seemed to be brewing all day. 

Figuring she must be starving, he offered her some oranges that had been picked from one of the trees outside, and gladly she accepted - Terzo making a promise that dinner was not long from now either. 

He lead her back outside, showing her the tables that sat underneath the large pergola lined with blooming wisteria, pointing to the table he and his brothers enjoyed sitting at. 

"Oh. You have brothers?"

"Si! Two older brothers. You met one this morning, Primo." 

(Y/n) recalled the quiet older man she had stumbled upon this early morning. His braided hair and dark robes, how kind he had been to lead her to Terzo. 

"You're Emeritus the third?" She asked, "Terzo. Third."

Terzo chuckled, "you catch on quick, don't you?" 

She shrugged and explained to him how Primo had confronted her with the question of which Emeritus she had come looking for this morning. 

He laughed, thinking about how confused she must have been, and about the way his brother knew exactly who she was looking for. 

They walked back through the refectory, passing by another handful of Siblings who were refilling on coffees, just enjoying each others company.

Terzo lead her back into the main hall. She felt like she knew it well, that she had been here already a hundred lives. 

At the stairs - or before going up - there was a hallway that lead to either the left or right.

Terzo took the right hallway which lead them to a tall set of dark wooden doors. He pushed them open and stepped aside to let her in. 

It was a library, a study, filled with more books than (y/n) had ever seen in her entire life. 

Tall shelves, shorter shelves, all filled with leather-bound, paper and hard-backed books. It smelled like old parchment and candle wax when she entered, something that made her breathe deep and relax into. 

There were tables with lamps for studying - a couple Sisters sitting at one going through some reading, but finding it hard to concentrate on their respective books as they continued talking with one another. 

There were comfy looking lounge chairs, couches and daybeds that sat in quiet little nooks - reserved completely for the person who found themselves invested in some story or private lesson in the arts, history, sciences, or anything ones heart might desire. 

Terzo watched her reaction, soaking it in as he knew this would impress her. 

"Perhaps for you, Sorella, we find you a book on your piccoli uccelli, hm?" His hand pressed against her lower back, guiding her forward. 

They walk through a few of the shelves, Terzo just letting her take her time looking over everything. 

He admires her as she runs her hands along the spines of a few larger books on the shelf, her hair, too angelically, catching sunlight from the long gothic structure windows that are behind them. 

Her hand stops along one of the books as she pulls it. 

The Holy Bible, Old and New Testament.

Her brow furrows and she turns to Terzo, holding it out to him. 

He smiles and grabs another book off the shelf, holding it back out to her. 

The Holy Bible, King James Version. 

"The bible?" (y/n) shakes her head, confused. 

"Si?" Terzo raises an eyebrow, "an important part of literature, no?"

He places the King James Version back on the shelf and grabs another book. 

The Satanic Bible. 

He hands it to her. 

"In this abbey, Sorella... You are free to read whatever you please. There is no restriction on what you choose to educate yourself with." 

Her thumbs smooth over the worn leather, the book sitting on top of The Holy Bible as she juggles them both in her hands. 

She doesn't say anything, but just puts the books back. There is nothing to say. 

To her right is a wooden spiral set of stairs, and immediately she changes the conversation.

She clears her throat, "Uh, what's up there?"

Terzo looks up to the loft above them. "More books," he smiles, understanding her quiet attempt to change conversation topics, "The Cardinal spends a lot of his time up there."

(Y/n) let a silent "oh" escape her lips as she nodded, her gaze lingering on the staircase. 

Terzo notices how she doesn't go for the stairs right away. He sees her hesitation, her mind running wild with everything she has learned today. So, he places a gentle hand against her back again, ready to lead her out. 

"Another time, then." He assures her, immediately feeling her tension settle. 

"Come, I've got a few more things to show you." 

They walked from the library and back into the hallway, Terzo stopping to shut the doors as quietly as he could. 

(Y/n) stood by, fidgeting with the fabric of her dress and moving to dig her thumb into her palm. Anything to take her mind off of the uncomfortable feelings she found clawing at her chest. 

Terzo noticed, and thought perhaps a break in the tour would be good for her.

He took her hand in his, her poor, sweet palm clammy with anxiety. 

"I'll show you your room. How does that sound?" He asked gently. 

She nodded, a small smile growing on her lips. 

"Bene! Come on." His hand still holding hers, they walked back into the main hall and turned to go upstairs. 

They climbed the stairs at an easy pace, the quiet of the abbey settling around them comfortably, leaving the noise of the main hall behind them. 

He didn't speak anymore, he knew he didn't need to. His presence was enough, and he knew conversation would come again when she was feeling better. 

At the end of the hall, they stopped in front of the modest, rounded wood door, its brass handle worn from age. It was the same room she had stayed in a little over a month ago - and standing before it now, ready to call it her own, it felt... homely. 

Terzo squeezed her hand gently before letting it go and opening the door to let her in.

"Would you like some time alone?" He asked, watching her walk in and relax into a somewhat familiar place. 

The bed was the same - A single mattress, fresh, soft linens neatly made it up with some down pillows that were begging to be napped on. The large puffy quilt she recalled bundling up into was folded neatly at the end. 

The window that looked over the courtyard let in the golden blanket of evening sun, warming everything in the little space. 

"No," she said softly, "you can stay." 

A look both tender and pleased flickered in Terzo's eyes as he graciously accepted her offer, taking in the room in a way he never had before - no longer some spare room, but hers. 

"I apologize for it being so plain," he took a seat on the bed, smoothing his hand along the sheets, "you'll just have to start filling it with your things, si?" 

(Y/n) nodded, she thought it was perfect. A clean slate, something to make her own. "Va bene, Padre. It is already cozy." 

"I'll make sure I get your things back to you as well," he spoke of her bag she had left in his room, "and perhaps, soon, a day out in town. We can get you more clothes, anything you'd like or need." 

Oh. Town. 

She had already forgotten about the world outside of the abbey. The convent lied beyond here, and she was not so sure she was ready to return to the real world because of that. 

"Oh, si. That would be nice." She smiled anyway, going to her window and looking outside. 

Terzo stayed seated on the bed, leaning on his palms and kicking his feet gently against the floor, watching her walk around. 

He checked the simple watch he wore. The time stating it was almost 5:30 PM. 

On Sundays, antipasti and drinks started at 7:00 PM. 

"Sorella, amore," he began, pushing himself up from the bed, "you are free to stay here and rest. But, I would love to continue showing you around before dinner, if that is what you wish." 

He held his arm back out to her, inviting her to follow. 

She turned to look at him again, her fingers lingering along the windowsill. 

Part of her wanted to stay, just a little longer in this new but familiar space that was now her own. 

But, the way he looked at her, the way he wanted to share more with her. She couldn't resist it. 

She walked from the window and snaked her arm around his once more - linked together like they were supposed to be. 

"lascia che ti mostri qualcosa di sacro..." He whispered, looking at her a moment before planting a gentle kiss on her lips. 

Let me show you something sacred... 

They walked from her room, (y/n) closing the door behind them before making their way back down the hall and stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, the main hall stretched before them, and there they stood at a crossroads. Though, only one way was unfamiliar now. 

Left. 

Another set of tall, dark wooden doors waited at the end. unopened, completely unknown to (y/n). 

Though completely unknown, she knew exactly what was behind those doors - but she dared not say it out loud. 

Terzo watched her as she stared down the darkened corridor, lit only by a few flickering candles dimly lighting the hall.  

He didn't drag her, but took a small step forward and she followed. 

When they stood in front of the doors, the height, the privacy, and secrets they held just behind them made it feel like (y/n) stood before some eldritch dragon hoarding it's gold. 

She let her gaze follow from the bottom to the top of the ceiling as she dragged her hand slowly along her chest, her fingers finding her rosary. 

Her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with anticipatory breaths, Terzo pushed the doors open. 

The hinges groaned, but not in an uncomfortable creaking way - just weighty and ancient, like whatever was behind the doors shouldn't be disturbed.

The air shifted, cool and heavy. 

And (y/n) just stood, facing the reality she was struggling to accept. 

Terzo stood in front of her, offering her nothing but a simple hand to take. 

Her fingers tightened around the rosary, finding comfort in the familiar shape as she moved forward into her unknown - like she was stepping into the hush of a confession she wasn't sure she was ready to make. 

Her other hand slid into Terzo's, and he cradled it gently - the feeling of their skin meeting feeling like she was being pulled into a threshold. 

The chapel stretched out before her in all of its glory, unholy or not. Tall, arched windows of stained glass filtered the evening light throughout the large but intimate room. They depicted no saint, no martyr, no heavenly host - but fallen angels, animals of the liminal hours, and arcane symbols (y/n) didn't know what to make of. All painted in deep reds, dusky purples and blues, obsidian black and alloy topaz. 

Terzo kept leading her forward and she followed. 

Though there were no other sounds besides that of their feet against the lime floors, (y/n) could have sworn she could hear a choir singing, the grandeur of a Hammond organ - Gregorian chants of old, a language lost in time - just by looking around. 

She felt it, deeply, the way something pulled her forward - took ahold of her heart, her soul, and tore it from her physical self. Trying to make her faith bleed from the gaping wound it caused. 

But the wound didn't hurt, like something was letting her know it would be mended, and she would be full again. 

That she should be grateful for the pain now to truly appreciate the pleasure later. 

They stopped just before the alter, the rows of pews behind them now - waiting and watching like they were filled with a congregation waiting for (y/n) to complete some liturgy. 

Still holding her hand, Terzo just watched her without a word. 

His touch was grounding, and she felt that if she were to let go she would ascend to somewhere in the unknown. 

She stepped up the three stairs before the alter and pulpit, standing in awe before the grand window. 

At the arched top were beams of white light that gave the spotlight to a falling angel, whom reached back towards the heavens but was already too far gone. His black wings covered his face (y/n) knew was a face of despair. 

Bellow were two black billys, rearing their heads at one another, ready to clash their long horns together - but between them The Cross of Saint Peter stopped them from interfering.  

A symbol (y/n) knew more than well. It demanded attention - not in the way it was so often tied to evil - but in the way it stood between the goats interrupting their violence, a symbol of humility and suffering. 

And at the bottom of the window, the largest scene, sat the fallen angel. Not a Hell she knew depicted in any religious text, but a garden of emerald and jade greens, trees of forbidden fruit and blooming henbane. 

The angel sat nude, his black wings folded behind him as he lounged in the garden. A hare was to his right, its human eyes looking out unto the chapel like it could whisper to you through eye contact. And a bird, small and yellow, marked with black, perched on his knee as he held his finger over the birds open beak - a drop of blood falling from his skin and to the birds tongue. 

(Y/n) hadn't realized she had let go of her rosary, or let go of Terzo's hand.

She just stood there, her hands at her side, her fingers twitching to reach for something wholly intangible that she felt standing right before her. 

She couldn't take her eyes away from the scene, from the eyes of the hare, from the blood in the birds mouth.

And as much as she told herself that she wanted to turn away, she had never seen anything so beautiful.

Something so darkly, and deeply celestial. Something so religiously erotic.

It kept her tethered to the chapel like she had always meant to find herself here.   

"Ah, perhaps I should have warned you..." Terzo broke the silence, his voice soft but echoing in the emptiness of the chapel, "He has that effect on people." 

He looked at the angel.

(Y/n) turned, finding her hands back in his. 

"An especially strong effect on little wayward girls like yourself." 

She looked back at the stained glass scene, and then back to Terzo. Her fingers found her lips as if she were going to chew on her nails out of nervousness - a habit she had never had. 

She didn't say anything, but she didn't need to. 

He saw the insurmountable amount of questions in her eyes, her curiosity outweighing her guilt, her faith - oh, her gentle faith - descending just as her hand had fallen from her rosary. 

"Come on," he gave her hand the faintest squeeze, leading her forward, "I have something else to show you." 

Not leaving through the chapel's entrance, Terzo guided (y/n) through another door. 

They moved across the altar, past a confessional booth, through the sacristy and out of a door - leaving them standing in a small courtyard. 

The sun had begun to set, the deep oranges and light pinks turned burgundy cast a Renaissance painting across the sky.

The little garden was secluded, a part of the expansive grounds that (y/n) had yet to see - covered in the secrecy of cypress and other vining plants and tall grasses. 

There was a stone bench along some of the trees, and off centered to the right was a statue.

An angel of weathered stone, blanketed in a light covering of lichens and moss - a statue that had seen and heard many in its time.  

(Y/n) went to it, her fingers dancing along the cool of the stone, running her hand along the folded wings of the angel who held his arms out in a welcoming embrace. 

"Do you know why we worship Him, Sorella?" Terzo, again, broke the silence between them, taking a seat on the bench across from her. 

She didn't answer him directly, or really answer him at all, she was in a world of her own as her hands dragged from the statues wings to its hands that lay open for her to take. 

"How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning..." She whispered to herself, a habit of reciting verses. 

She held the stone hands of the statue and looked into its forgiving eyes - clouded with age and the breath of life from the moss. "The light-bringer. God's most radiant angel..." 

Terzo only watched her, enchanted by how she was speaking to herself, solving her own puzzle of why she had found herself back here at the abbey. 

"Why should he have knelt for clay?" She spoke louder, as if she wanted Terzo to hear what she was saying now. 

"Humankind is ugly. It is violent, greedy, full of sorrow. Humankind kills in the name of Christ, in the name of God and religion... I do not blame him for disobeying his Father. He loved Him so fiercely, and he did not understand why God wanted him to love us unconditionally. We do not deserve that love..." 

Her eyes fell from the gaze of the statue, as she let herself mourn something she didn't understand. But, she did not weep, feeling hollow and whole all at once. 

"You grieve the realities of human life, just as He. There is a misunderstood empathy there, for the suffering. A humility that not everyone sees..." 

She dropped her hands from Lucifer's and turned back to Terzo, who sat there - waiting for her just as the statue had. 

"And you, Sorella, see Him for all that He is. Not all that He is made up to be." 

Terzo stood, going to her and taking her hands - using his in place of the angel's. 

"Exiled for love... He sounds like someone I know," He pulled her closer, their bodies leaving no room for the Holy Sprit between them. 

"Tis better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven, no?" 

(Y/n)s breath shuddered as they stared deeply, revealingly, into each other's eyes - into each other's souls. 

She didn't know whether to expect her virgin sacrifice to take place now or later back on the altar in the chapel. 

Father Emeritus had never been a man of God, but a man of the Devil Himself. The wolf in sheep's clothing she had been warned about her whole life. The serpent, the deceiver. 

But here, in this moment, she would willingly let him spill her blood in the name of love. 

"You have nothing to fear, Sorella," his lips brushed against the shell of her ear as if he were whispering sweet nothings to her, "you love as He does. Deeply and without shame... You should not be martyred for the gift of true empathy that you hold." 

(Y/n) whimpered as she felt her back press against the cool of the statue, letting Terzo trail his lips along her jaw and neck so reverently.  

"They fear you, Sorella... Because, they cannot imagine a world where holiness looks like this." His tongue flicked against her pulse, her heart beating fast. 

"But I can... I can see you in all of your unholy divinity." 

She gasped as he pushed her against the statue, his hand gripping her hip firmly, his body pressed more closely to hers than he ever had. 

"Please," he whispered against her, "please (y/n)... Let me teach you, let me show you what it is like to live without shame. I will show you in every sense of the word what it means to be pleased in body and soul."

Their foreheads rested against each other's, the tension almost tangible between them. 

Terzo's hand slid from her hip to her thigh, gripping her flesh like he would fall apart if she denied him. 

(Y/n) dropped her gaze slightly, that shame clawing up into her chest but she spoke from her heart, "Teach me, Father..." She whispered. 

"I know not where I am, I know not what I do... Please, my shepherd, guide me..."

He exhaled longingly against her skin, his grip on her thigh loosening as he let his hand run along her leg in a soothing rub. 

"Oh, my dear lamb, so lost you have been," he kissed her, not long, not hard, but just enough, "let me take you home, Sorella. I would do anything for you, anything you ask of me, I am yours." 

In pure, sacred seduction, he submitted to her, absolutely ready to drop everything and give her anything. 

And (y/n) felt it. 

She felt it in the way his lips trembled when they met hers again - deeper and hungrier. In the way his hands roamed in confidence now, sculpting reverence across her waist, her hips, and thighs. 

He lifted her gently up on the ledge of the statue, seating her against the stone platform as he pressed himself up against her, kissing her like he was starved and she was the only sustenance he had ever known. 

Instinctually, her thighs tightened around his hips, pulling him closer as his hand slid underneath her dress. 

He stopped at her knee, not from uncertainty, but of devotion. 

His lips trailing down her throat and kissing along her collar bone, he squeezed her knee gently, rocking himself against her. 

"Tell me if you want me to stop..." His voice was rough with longing. 

(Y/n) shook her head, desperate, breathless, her eyes wide with need. "Uhnuh," she begged with a wanton whisper. 

Terzo groaned against her neck, nearly melting at the sound. 

His hand slid further up her thigh, the fabric of her dress bunching up around his wrist - lips still planting prayerful kisses along the hot skin of her neck and chest. 

She grabbed at the back of his shirt, her arms around him as she meaninglessly arched into him - holding him like he was the only thing that would keep her grounded. 

She gasped and Terzo's eyes rolled to the back of his head, both of them moaning as he pressed a firm hand between her thighs. He stroked the soft patch of hair that lay between him and her purity, gently touching her in a way she had never been touched before. 

She whimpered, hips shifting helplessly against his touch, her breath catching with every slow stroke of his fingers. 

"Dolce ragazza, I will spend an eternity worshiping this part of you if you let me." He groaned, he himself helpless in her own arms. 

All (y/n) could do was let out helpless little sounds that fed his energy, all the while she rolled her hips against his hand like she was experienced in what she was doing. 

Terzo's breath stuttered against her skin as she moved - unsure, but eager and entirely responsive. 

"That's it," he crooned, pressing their foreheads back together, "just like that, Sorella... You please yourself like a natural." 

He cracked a smile, pleased with himself, and (y/n) couldn't help but smile as well - meeting him halfway to press more open-mouthed kisses on each other. 

His fingers stroked her with more intention now. Deeper, each movement crafted perfectly to her breathing, her gasps, and little moans. He could feel her beginning to tremble, her thighs shaking as she pressed them tighter against his hips - clinging onto him tighter, her head now buried in his shoulder. 

Low and desperate, Terzo groaned, dragging his lips along the shell of her ear as he relentlessly tried to rut himself against the same hand he touched her with. 

A single, thunderous tolling of the chapel bell rang throughout the courtyard - tearing them apart, shattering the moment. 

(Y/n) jolted in his arms, the heat of her body crashing suddenly with the cold reality of what she had been doing and where they were. 

The bell tolled again, and a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh time. 

7:00 PM. 

Slowly, she pushed herself back, her hands grasping the hem of her dress and pulling it between her legs. 

Terzo let his hand fall from beneath the fabric - his fingers glistening with her in the very last light of day.

Neither of them spoke, but they knew what each other would have to say. 

Terzo helped her down gently from the edge of the statue and she smoothed her hands along her dress, straightening herself out - grounding herself again with her own touch. 

The moment was over, but the ache would remain. And though they were being summoned to dine, the only thing (y/n) could taste was sin. 

Chapter Text

She had let him touch her. 

And worse - she had wanted him to. She enjoyed it. 

Crickets soon took over the melody of birds as the last of the sun dipped below the mountain. The moon just barely peaking over the East horizon, ready to make her nightly entrance. 

The silence that had grown between (y/n) and Terzo was palpable - their skin flushed with the heat of their lust, breath still heavy with anticipation, and now, regret. 

The quiet lingered as neither of them dared to break it.

Somewhere in the garden, the faint flutter, chirp and rustle of a bird settling to roost was heard. (Y/n) looked around like she was trying to find the source - anything to take her mind off of the awkward tension. 

Terzo cleared his throat, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "You'll join me for dinner, won't you?" 

She startled slightly, unprepared to hear him speak so casually. 

"Y-yes. Yes. Of course, Father." She put on her best disguise, a smile wrapped in guilt, and took his arm when he offered it to her. 

Just like nothing had happened. 

They walked back through the chapel, (y/n) keeping her gaze on the ground, not daring to look at the grand stained glass window again. Her own decent from the heavens felt all too imminate now.  

Terzo, ever the charmer, didn't even care to make casual conversation as they moved. It wasn't necessary, and he felt guilty himself for how guilty she looked. 

Maybe he had pushed her too far, too fast, when she hadn't been ready, and he hadn't meant for that to happen. 

But, she clung to him tighter, like he was something of comfort and familiarity - reminding him that he wasn't the one who was supposed to be drowning in his feelings. 

She needed a shepherd. Confident, strong, someone who was able to step up for her when she couldn't herself. 

And it was time to step up. 

When they made it back into the hallway, Terzo closed the doors to the chapel and then turned to (y/n), placing his hands on her shoulders. 

"Do you need a moment alone?" 

She looked at him like she was almost on the verge of tears, but simply shook her head. 

"No, Father, I'm alright." 

"You're sure?" 

"No." She admitted, but laughed half-heartedly. 

Sometimes laughing through the pain was the only way to get through, and she was tired of crying. 

"Maybe just a moment to make sure I'm presentable?" She asked.  

Terzo nodded, his hands lingering on her shoulders just a second longer. 

"Of course, just there -" he pointed towards a smaller darkened corridor near by, a wash basin and mirror inside. "Take your time, I'll wait." 

He planted a small kiss on her forehead and (y/n) offered him a grateful look before she slipped from him and went to reassess her life. 

Alone now, she leaned against the cool stone wall, pressing her palms to her cheeks in an attempt to will away the heat. She stared at her reflection - unsure of what to do anymore with this girl that looked back at her. 

Her eyes were too bright, her lips a shade of red she'd never seen before, her chest flushed rosy like her cheeks, her neck-

Oh. Her neck. 

She gasped quietly, pressing her fingers to dip of skin where her shoulder met the curve of her neck.

A bright purple bruise, small, but prominent enough, was painted on her skin like she was a model of color theory. 

She combed her fingers through her hair, fluffing it out and draping it over her shoulders, trying her best to cover the mark. 

It worked. For now. 

Was that from kissing? You could get bruised from kissing? 

Dear God, this is punishment, Isn't it?

She took a steadying breath, and then another for good measure. Smoothing out her hair again and making sure enough strands sat along her collar, shielding the evidence of what she had let happen - of what she had wanted to happen. 

When she stepped back out into the hall, Terzo straightened himself like he hadn't just been messing with his trousers trying to solve an issue that was quite literally pressing. His gaze flicked over her, a silent scan to make sure she was alright. 

"All good?" He asked. 

"Mmhmm." (y/n) nodded, unsure if she should tell him or not. 

His eyes narrowed, "what's wrong?"

She sighed, her shoulders dropping as she moved her hair away from her neck. 

Terzo bit his lip, looking only slightly concerned. 

"What?" Her eyes widened, her blood running cold, "don't look at me like that!"

"I'm sorry! Look. Look, it's fine. It's not a big deal." He laughed nervously, touching the hickey with a gentle press of his thumb. 

"You're making it sound like it is..." She looked like she was on the verge of tears again.

"No, no, piccola. Sorella, it is fine, si?" He tried to reassure her but it looked like he was failing, "I'm sorry, I got a bit carried away..." 

"You think?" She hissed. She didn't mean to, but it came out snippy. She wasn't used to having to hide something like this. She wasn't used to her body being a source of betrayal. 

She sighed again, "maybe I shouldn't go to dinner."

"What? No!" Terzo placed his hands on her shoulders, his voice warm and comforting, "(y/n), really. It's going to be fine, I'll make sure of it." 

She looked up at him, the world pressing in on her through the warmth of his hands and the drowning sound of her pulse in her throat. 

"You're sure?"

"Si! I won't let anyone get close enough." He smiled, small and genuine. 

He let his hands slide down her arms until their fingers met, taking her hands and giving them a gentle squeeze before he tucked a strand of hair back over her shoulder, covering the bruised skin with the utmost care. 

She nodded, taking a much needed deep breath. 

"Okay."

He offered her his arm again and she took it. 

They made their way towards the refectory, no more conversation, tension still palpable but dissipating, and guilt, still lingering. 

It was uncomfortable enough to be in unfamiliar surroundings, but dinner with the family of the priest who just fingered you against a statue of the angel Lucifer? 

Terrifying. 

(Y/n) almost wanted to stop him again as they entered the dining hall, but she didn't.

As if breakfast wasn’t already charged with enough tense energy from the brothers and the Cardinal - dinner was often worse and especially on a Sunday night. Wine-fueled rants and arguments, old tensions brought to the surface, the despair of beginning a new week full of responsibility and duties.

Copia was having some heated debate with Primo. Already two glasses of wine in, he was not looking forward to the week ahead of him.

Secondo had a cigar tonight, and desperately he tried to enjoy it while he leaned against the table, not interested in the least with where the conversation was going. 

“Do you really want to be arguing about this with me?” Primo pushed, knowing he’d only be egging on Copia more.

“Look, all I’m saying is, I think it’s too early to start them. We haven’t had our last frost yet.” 

“Oh? And now you’re the expert gardener because you read it in a book? I don’t recall the last time I saw you out there getting your hands dirty.” Primo glared. 

“I go to the greenhouse…” Copia frowned. 

"When? Once every other solstice?" 

Copia opened his mouth, a rebuttal halfway formed - but then his eye caught Terzo and (y/n) as they walked outside towards the table. 

Arm-in-arm, smiling to each other about something he was whispering to her.

She looked composed. More composed than anyone who had just been in Terzo's company had any right to be. And she looked radiant, not that she was trying to be - not that that was a bad thing, but something about her... She was glowing. 

Glowing like she had just been let in on a secret. 

Copia reached for his wine too quickly, taking a sip that was a little too indulgent, spilling some from the corner of his mouth. 

What is her deal?  What is HIS deal?

He thought, deflecting his confused feelings onto her and Terzo through anger. 

Secondo who had been trying to ignore everything going on at the table up until that point, took a long drag of his cigar and nodded toward the two. 

"Here comes the novitiate." 

He would never admit it out loud, but he quite enjoyed a good amount of drama and gossip. It must have been an Emeritus thing. Terzo was the same way, though he wasn't sure if Primo had it in him - perhaps he was the one generation to be skipped with a desire for secrets and rumors. 

Primo who had still been droning on about the pH levels of soil, proper germination of seeds, and the like, finally looked away from Copia and towards everyone else's gaze. 

He abruptly fell silent. 

Terzo and (y/n) were nearly at the table, weaving through the other tables filled with Brothers and Sisters, the candle light of each table creating a most warm atmosphere on this cool spring night. 

"Terzo looks like a house cat that just ate the family canary." Secondo smirked, exhaling another stream of smoke. 

Copia cleared his throat, "That's a bit suggestive, don't you think?" 

"Always the prude, aren't you Cardinal?" Secondo crossed his arms, quirking an eyebrow. 

Copia only returned his comment with a fake smile, his mustache twitching with aggravation. 

Before their back and forth could continue, Terzo and (y/n) stood before the table and each of the men stood as a good gentleman should for a lady. 

"Fratelli, vi presento Sorella (y/n)." Terzo smiled proudly. 

The three erupted in a simultaneous "Buonasera, Sorella." 

(Y/n) bowed her head slightly, "Buonasera." She greeted back. 

Terzo guided her to a chair that would sit her next to him and Primo. Across from Secondo and Copia. 

She settled, placing a napkin in her lap with practiced grace. The dance of the flame from the candles sat between all of them, almost a sick metaphor for the tension that that was burning between everyone. 

"Sorella, I do hope our dear brother has been gentle and kind to you." Primo said, pouring her a glass of wine and sliding it towards her. 

"Huh? O-oh, si. Of course." She smiled nervously, taking a quick sip from her wine. 

Terzo gasped dramatically. "You really think so lowly of me, don't you, fratello?"

Primo muttered something under his breath and turned his attention back to his own wine. 

"My little lamb has had quite the day, let her breathe, won't you?" Terzo asked protectively, "Perhaps refrain from pressing her on how my behavior was today, hm?" 

Primo waved him off. 

"She has confessed much, she has seen much, and has felt much of The Spirit from the chapel and gardens..."

Copia refrained from rolling his eyes, "Is that what we're calling it?" He said quietly. 

"Come again, Cardinal?" Terzo gave him a smile laced all in warning. 

"Nothing!" Copia shot him a pleasant smile back.  

Terzo glared at him and snaked an arm around (y/n) - a touch of comfort, a touch to let her know that he had her back. 

She smiled at him and he squeezed her shoulder return. 

For the most part, antipasti and wine continued peacefully and transitioned smoothly into dinner. 

No one had tried to pick (y/n) apart, asked her questions of why she was here or why she had left the convent. It was refreshing, and it was like they knew already exactly what she had gone through - what she was going through and the fragile state of being she was in. 

She herself had finished a full glass of wine and was toying with the idea of a second. She felt good, light, like she had tossed her inhibitions into the night. 

Having already fallen victim to one of the cardinal sins today, what was the harm in falling for another?

The eldest brothers shared conversation over something she didn't quite understand. "The equinox," they kept saying, talking about it like it was some big party.

Terzo kept a gentle hand on her knee, running his fingers along her leg every so often - keeping their sexual tension simmering, perhaps not in a meaningful way, but it was keeping her alert. He would whisper to her every now and then, telling her little bits of information about his brothers as they watched them bicker. 

Copia on the other hand had remained still and quiet since the last he spoke. Picking at his food like he wasn't really hungry, but indulging in more wine like he was trying to forget something. 

When dessert came, conversation had grown looser, laughter rose a little louder with the excessive use of drink. Honey-soaked figs, roasted almond and pistachio, and small chocolate tarts seemed to be too fitting for the end of this day. Sweet, rich, and far too sensual for a night that was already soaked in guilt. 

Terzo excited Primo with the fact that (y/n) had an interest in watching the birds and had already fallen in love with the abbey's gardens. 

She came alive in a way Terzo hadn't really seen her yet - relaxed with the Sauvignon Blanc in her veins, and the excitement of meeting someone with a shared passion. 

"Ah, did you do much gardening back at the convent?" Primo asked.

"Oh, yes." (y/n) nodded, "I do love being outside. I feel like I have made good friends with the sun and the wind, the planet is quite alive don't you think?" 

This was the kind of conversation you begin to have one too many glasses of wine in - the kind of conversation where you bare your soul without regret now but regret the morning after. 

"Si, si. That is quite philosophical. Deeply spiritual of you," Primo laughed a little, "but, of course, I feel the same."  

She smiled, genuine and bright, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as her and Primo continued conversation. 

Terzo lounged in his chair, his eyes closed, nodding along to whatever (y/n) was saying. A glass of wine in one hand and the other still on her knee. 

Secondo was standing now, looking out into the night, relighting the rest of his cigar. 

Copia was scribbling something in a notepad, some sort of to-do list for the coming week. 

He glanced up every now and then, looking at everyone, stopping to look at her longer - and in the third or fourth time he gazed, he didn't stop looking. 

It was cute, sure, the way she talked so passionately about her love for the outdoors but that wasn't why he was staring. 

He stared because of the mark on her neck. 

At first he was certain he was mistaken, but the longer he stared the more he realized he wasn't. 

A hickey!? Real classy, Terzo... 

He thought to himself. 

Would it be rude if I didn't say anything? - he then thought. 

So, he cleared his throat, trying to get (y/n)s attention. 

She didn't seem to notice, or at least didn't bother with him, so he did it again, and instead caught the attention of Terzo. 

He looked at Copia with an eyebrow raised and then looked at (y/n), then back at Copia while he tucked her hair gently back around her shoulder. 

"Are you choking, Cardinal?" He asked with a glare that spoke a thousand warnings. 

Copia cleared his throat again, more quiet this time, "N-no. Just. Allergies."

Terzo smiled, tight and wolfish. "Hmm, si, spring is a lovely time of year for that isn't it?" 

Copia looked down at his notepad, acting like he was rereading what he had been writing - like he was trying to remember everything he wrote so he didn't have to look at the pad again.

Stretching in his chair, Terzo gave (y/n)s knee a little squeeze before standing up. "Fratelli, if you'll excuse us, I think the day has caught up with my sweet Sorella and I." He offered his hand to her. warm and expectant. 

She took it and stood with him, unaware of the fact Copia's gaze followed her up like a second spine. 

"Buonanotte," she said, bowing her head ever so slightly, "It was very nice to meet you both, and of course, see you again, Cardinal." 

Primo and Secondo both returned her kindness with gracious bows and Copia stayed seated at the table unaware of his staring. 

"Say goodnight, Cardinal." Terzo kicked the leg of his chair slightly, speaking to him like a toddler. 

"Oh, uh- buonanotte, Sorella." He smiled, straightening himself out in his seat, "It was nice to see you again as well..." 

"Arrivederci!" Terzo waved them off and linked his arm with (y/n)s, leading her back inside, "I hope to see you all in the morning for Mass." 

The night air clung to (y/n)s skin in a most delicate way as the reentered the stone halls, leaving the last of the late night laughter and clinking of glass behind them. 

They walked in comfortable silence as they left the refectory and entered the main hall. 

"You have Mass in the morning?" She asked cautiously, not really knowing what that meant for the abbey. 

"Si, you are more than welcome to join," Terzo smiled at her, "you don't need to partake, you can just watch, listen. Or, sleep in if you desire." 

(Y/n) nodded, perhaps she'd sleep on the idea. 

They made their way upstairs, a gentle pace like they had kept before. 

Once they had made it back to her room, Terzo didn't press, didn't ask if he could come in, he just pulled her in for a gentle hug. "You rest well now, my little lamb. You know where to find me if you need anything, si?" 

She nodded, looking into his eyes when they pulled back. 

He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles that still carried the bruises of her past. 

"The women's bathhouse is just to your left. To the right? the men's, if you were curious." He winked at her, and gave her a gentle scoot towards her bedroom door. 

"Anything at all. Anytime at all. Just come find me." He reiterated.

"Grazie, Father." 

"Buonanotte, Sorella." 

Shutting the door behind her with a quiet click, she leaned against the frame and looked over her room. 

The same little quiet space that she knew before, welcomed her back gratefully. 

On the little round table next to the wash basin and pitcher was a stack of two larger and two hand towels. Her bag of things she brought from the convent was on the wicker chair, just like he had promised. 

She stepped further inside and went to the table. Hands dragged over the towels and along the wood before reaching into her bag. 

From it, she pulled the same white cotton nightgown she had owned for years. Short, scallop hemmed sleeves and a squared collar, with a few buttons that ran between the breast. Something when worn would fall to her ankles - something a pure girl would wear, something a nun would wear. 

She took out her bristled hair brush, a little tube of toothpaste and bamboo toothbrush. Along came the only pair of socks she had, and pair two out of the three cotton panties she brought. 

She tucked the socks and panties back into the bag, and underneath an extra pair of robes, an old cardigan, and a small pair of boots, her pocket bible remained buried. 

She held the nightgown to her chest, the soft fabric so familiar she relaxed against it's touch. But, not for long - her eyes drifted to the towels again, hesitating in her thoughts. 

She didn't need to bathe, she had already this morning. But still, she felt the need to move, to touch water, to rinse the ghost of his fingers, the wine, and heat of the evening from her skin. 

She gathered one of the hand towels and one of the larger, tucking her belongings against her chest as she slipped her way back into the hallway. 

Already deeper into the night than she cared to admit, she padded barefoot to the bath house. The hallway to the left was practically out of her door, and secretly she was hoping no one else would be in there at this hour. 

For once, her prayers were answered. Empty. 

The lights were dim, and the bath house itself much larger than she had anticipated. 

A large, round pool was in the middle. Steam rising from the water, condensation on the rough marble steps, the soft trickle of water from the swan statues that sat like guards on the edge. 

Against one of the walls was a long mirror that stretched the length of a counter top with several shared sinks. Next to the counter was a tall thing of shelves, some empty, others full of Sisters' personal belongings. 

There was a shorter counter with another mirror - another sink, a wash basin and pitcher, candles, incense, soap, oils, extra hand towels, a cute little basket full of pads and tampons, and those... Little black foil packets she had found in Terzo's bathroom.  

Across the way were several curtained showers, and nearby a door that lead to stalls of private toilets. 

It was incredibly luxe. Far nicer than the shared bath house at the convent. 

(Y/n) placed her things down on the smaller counter. She stood for a moment, blinking sleepily at the gentle steam rising from the pool. The room hummed with humidity, warmth, and stillness as though it had been waiting for her, like it knew.

But, she didn't step into the pool. She wasn't here for comfort, but she went to it with the pitcher - dipping it in to fill with water, letting her hand sink in for just a moment. 

She hummed, relaxing into the warmth before standing from the step and going back to the wash basin. 

A brief look in the mirror, she took her veil off, smoothing her fingers through her hair that had grown a little wild from the night breeze during dinner. 

She grabbed the sides of her gown, pulling it up until she gripped the hem and finally slid it off of her body. 

She stood naked before herself like she had this morning. There was color on her skin, on her lips - blush in the most gentle of places she had never seen before. And of course, the mark Terzo had left on the soft curve of her neck. 

But, nothing stood out more against her nude form than the rosary that she still wore - resting on the purple mark of a kiss and between her breasts that seemed too tinted with the heat of touch. 

She poured the pitcher of warm water into the basin, taking her hand towel and dipping it, then wringing it back out - dragging it along her neck and face. 

Eyes closed, she swept it along her collarbone and down her chest. Across and under her arms, down her midriff and between her thighs. 

Nothing more than a gentle and practiced ritual to end a day. 

She wrung the cloth back out in the washbasin and dumped the remaining water down the sink, picking up her towel to dry herself off. 

Quietly, like she might wake someone, she dressed herself, the soft, worn cotton of her nightgown easing against her freshly cleaned skin. 

She brushed her hair out once. Fluffed it a second time, and left it down. Brushed her teeth and used the lotion she found sitting on the counter, and soon gathered her things, giving the room a final once over to make sure she had left it clean. 

Arms full, skin stained with the soft scent of oatmeal, milk and honey, she entered back into the hallway. 

It was even quieter now than it had been just thirty minutes before - a silence that pressed against her ears, like the abbey itself had fallen asleep. 

Once alone in her room, she shut the door quietly, moving slowly to hang her towels over the chair at the table and placing her new robes, veil, brushes and all back in her bag or on the table itself. 

She lit the small candle at her bedside. 

The rosary still hung around her neck. She hadn't taken it off yet and she didn't know why. 

She stood at the edge of the bed, taking the bigger quilt and spreading it over the other blankets. Her hands running along the fabric like she was excited to get to sleep. 

Then, gently, instinctively, she knelt at her bedside. 

Not in penance, not in shame. Perhaps in habit, perhaps in a prayer for herself - hoping someone. Anyone. Was watching out for her. 

Her fingers found the beads. "Hail Mary, full of grace-"

The candle flickered once, and then stilled. 

"The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."

This wasn't just a prayer. This was her. This was something she wasn't ready to let go of.

Not yet. 

"Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen." 

She took a deep breath and lifted her bowed head, her fingers still laced in the beads of her rosary. 

Slowly she stood, moving to climb into bed. 

The plushy, heavy quilt invited her to join it for sleep, the room was dimly lit, and the quiet of the halls mixed with the sounds of nature outside was just comforting enough to feel safe. 

She settled onto her side, pulling the blanket up to her chin, the rosary shifting against her skin.

This was it. She could relax after a day that had left her with far too many questions, aching, and new desires...

She would sleep, and hoped no dreams would come to her unconscious mind.

And, in the morning, she would wake, and she would take the day slowly. One step at a time.

This was enough for now - to do what she could. 

But, as she dozed, as she let herself settle into the warmth and comfort of her little bed, as she settled into the silence of the night - she became increasingly aware of the way her body was speaking to her.

The hopeful promise of sleep was slipping away. And in the quiet of her bedroom, her body, the ache in her chest and between her legs whispered to her. 

This isn't enough. 

She closed her eyes tighter, pressed her thighs together, and tried to will herself to sleep. 

But, she only found herself tossing, stretching, rocking her hips. Trying to calm her hot skin that was much too awake for this time of night. 

She groaned and turned onto her back, staring at the ceiling like she was hoping to find the secret to a peaceful night. 

Her hands slid down to her lower stomach, gripping her nightgown there like she could rid herself of the growing feelings of longing and desire. 

She didn't know what it took to satiate those feelings, and clutching her nightgown like it would save her wasn't doing anything.

Her unrelenting grip loosened on the soft fabric. Now, one hand laid there flat against her hip bone and the other against the slope of her lower belly. 

She bit her lip. A shaky exhale following after. 

It was him. That's what this was. 

Memory she intended to leave behind in the garden, with the statue. The way his fingers parted her so reverently, his voice low and silky - so patient and coaxing. The way her body rocked into his hand like it knew what to do out of instinct. 

She shifted again, her thighs brushing together, her hand sliding just a little lower. Just enough to feel the heat between her legs, to reach for the ache. 

Using two gentle fingers she pressed firmly against what she didn't know to be her clitoris. 

She gasped, taking her hand away, and then quietly moaned as her legs pressed back together. 

Her own touch felt too foreign, too curious and too bold. 

He had touched her like he was allowed to. And now, without him - without permission - it didn't feel the same. It felt more sinful, if anything. 

Her hands shook, and she lay there for a moment - breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a prayer. Her legs stayed pressed together, tight with shame, but tighter with longing. 

The silence of her room was no longer comforting - it was suffocating. The blankets felt too heavy. The air too warm. Her skin too tender and restless. And as much as she tried to forget, her body only sang in response. Forcing her to remember. 

She sat up slowly, looking at the door like it had just called her name. Her rosary slid between her breasts as she stood, heart thudding in her chest like it already knew her path forward. 

There was no hesitation in her movement. 

She looked out into the dimly lit hallway and turned to her left, standing before the set of stairs that lead to Father Emeritus. 

A gentle knock, that's all it would take. 

But (y/n) kept pulling her hand back as soon as she would reach for the door. 

Back and forth, she would reach out and pull back like she was afraid the door would burn her. 

Eventually her fist met the wood. Three gentle raps - barely enough to be heard, but somehow still too loud in the stillness of the night. 

She stood there, clutching the collar of her nightgown, fidgeting with the fabric out of nervousness. 

Her heart dropped when she saw a soft light spill from the bottom of the door, followed by the soft padding of footsteps across rugs and stone towards her. 

The door opened a sliver, the soft, warm light shining out into the hall now. And, there he was. 

Slightly tousled hair, his chest bare beneath his half-tied rob, eyes still heavy with sleep. 

"Sorella," He said like he was expecting to find her here, his voice raspy. 

She didn't answer right away. She just looked at him. 

"Can I come in?" She asked, just barely above a whisper. 

He opened the door wider, stepping aside without another word. 

She entered and stood by as he closed the door behind them. 

"No need to feel uncomfortable," he said gently, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, "You've been in here before." 

She nodded and let him guide her forward. Finding their way to his bed they sat on the edge. 

He offered her a glass of water but she declined - thinking maybe he should have offered her something stronger instead. 

"Trouble sleeping?" He asked. 

"Yeah..." 

"Hmm, me too." 

They sat a moment in silence. He didn't press, he didn't want to startle her. If she was just here for company and to be close that was fine. 

She sat quietly, looking at her hands that sat wrapped together in her lap. 

He yawned, running his hands along his face like he was still trying to wake up. 

"I... I can't stop thinking about what happened. In the chapel garden, I mean..." She said. 

Terzo's brow lifted slightly but he didn't say anything. 

"I don't know what I'm doing," it was just a whisper. She shook her head like she felt stupid for saying it, "I prayed tonight. Hail Mary. Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. I said it like I knew I was going to find myself back here." 

He stayed quiet. 

"I- I tried to touch myself." Her breath hitched at her own words, looking to him like he had the answer, like she wasn't sure if she should be ashamed. 

His expression softened and he reached for her hands. 

"(Y/n)-"

"N-no. I did. I tried to touch myself and it wasn't enough." She stopped him, speaking over him like she was in confession and it was her turn to be absolved. 

"(Y/n)." He said firmer, but no less gentle. 

"You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing to be ashamed of. You listened to your body, that is all." 

Her lips parted and she swallowed hard. 

The silence that fell between them was heavy. Hot with things unsaid, tense with the guilt of sin, but loud with what was to come. 

"I-" She whispered, both of her hands now cradled in Terzo's. 

"I think. I think I want you to touch me again." 

Terzo didn't move. Not yet. 

"Are you asking me?" 

She nodded. 

"Say it again. In confidence." He challenged her softly.

"I think-"

"No. Not 'I think'. I want. Do you want this?" He corrected her with all of the kindness in the world. The last thing he would do is take advantage of her uncertainty. 

She trembled slightly, looking into his eyes, seeing the path he was laying out before her. 

A path she could choose. 

"I want you to touch me again." 

Terzo's breath left him in a slow exhale, like he had been holding it since the garden. 

"Thank you." He said like it was a benediction. 

He rose gently and brought her with him. 

"You say yes if you want something. No if you don't want something, and stop if you want me to stop. Va bene?" 

"Yes." (y/n) nodded. 

Terzo smiled and pulled her close. "Can I kiss you?"

She sighed, almost already on him. "Yes." 

Their lips met in fevered anticipation - soft but hungry, and begging for more. 

It had been almost a full twenty-four hours since she first found herself in his room, on her knees, begging for the forgiveness of something she knew now never needed to be forgiven. 

This had always been her. She was always going to be here - whether she chose to accept that fact now or not. 

From saint to sinner, where prayer became touch - let lips do what hands do. They pray. 

Their lips parted slowly, breath mingling in the space between them. The kiss had become something warm and full, but gave way for an invitation to continue.

Terzo's hands at her waist grabbed her nightgown like he wanted to tear it off of her. But he wouldn't, of course he wouldn't - but he fantasized of the day he could. 

He let his robe - already loosely covering him - fall from his shoulders. Standing before her, still wrapped in a gentle make out in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, and an obvious hard on straining against the fabric. 

Still gripping her nightgown, he pulled from her lips and asked, "Can I?" 

She nodded quickly, "Y-yes. Please." 

His eyes softened at her reply - so sweet, so eager. 

He held the fabric like it was the thin veil between him and heaven. His fingers moved slowly, gathering the hem - sliding it up her thighs, over her hips, ribcage, chest. And so willingly, she lifted her arms as he took it off completely. Finally. 

Completely bare beneath, save for her rosary, he wanted nothing more than to drop to his knees and worship her from foot to head. 

For a long moment he just stared at her. 

He stared like she was his creation, made of his blood, sweat, and tears - of all of his devotion. 

And he would be lying to himself if the rosary between her breasts wasn't a turn on. It was most blasphemous, beautiful, divine. She was a most unholy saint. 

Almost helplessly, he sank to his knees - fingers tracing along her hips and thighs, his lips pressing gentle kisses to her stomach and soft waist. 

"Cazzo, sei bellissima... Santa peccatrice." He murmured into her hip. 

"My blessed sinner, look at you." A slow moving hand slid up the back of her thigh, gripping her ass softly while he continued to make out with her midriff. 

(Y/n) gasped at his worshipful touch, a little confused to why she liked the way he was on her. It was animalistic in a gentle way, devotion wrapped in lust - something that made her want to cry for him. 

"F-Father?" She moaned quietly. 

Terzo hummed in question as he continued licking and sucking along her hip and down her leg, "Papa." He corrected her. 

She let out a helpless little sound, her hands gripping his shoulders, one leg nearly over him. "What?" She whispered. 

"Come now, I am no longer Father to you, Sorella... It is Papa." He looked up at her and she down on him. 

Their eyes met and a meaning deeper than she knew was shared between them. She hadn't expected a change in title to mean so much. But it did. 

He wasn't the facade of Father Emeritus she had met over a month ago. 

He was Papa Emeritus III - a man she wasn't sure she knew at all.

Dangerous? Maybe. Handsy? Very. Indulgent? Clearly. Would keep her feeling safe, secure, loved, and adored? Most definitely. 

She said it with a shaky breath, half moan, half whisper, "Papa?"

Terzo smiled against her soft skin, biting gently into the flesh of her thigh. 

"What is it, my lamb? What do you need?" 

"I- I don't know." She said quietly. 

He hummed against her, planting one last soft kiss below her naval before he stood back up, wrapping her in his arms. 

Bare chest against bare chest, he kissed her temple. "Do you ache, amore? You need more from me?" 

She nodded like she felt embarrassed. 

He laughed softly, "You don't know what you're asking for, do you?" 

She shook her head slowly, "No..." 

"Do you wish for me to show you what you ask of?"

Her lips parted, a deep breath released like he had been holding it for too long, "Yes." 

He smiled at her with that gentle kindness he had always carried around her and took her hand.

"Vieni qui," he said as he lead her to the bed. 

They crawled up together and Terzo leaned himself against the pillows and headboard, (y/n) kneeling in front of him waiting for some kind of instruction. 

He couldn't take his eyes off of her - the way she sat there so politely, the way the low light made her glow, and the way the shadows framed her supple breasts and soft curves - he was ruined. 

"I won't bite unless you want me to, Sorella," he teased, holding a hand out to her, "come sit on me."

He pulled her to his lap, her thighs bracketing his, cotton boxers still a barrier between her nude form and his. 

She settled into his lap slowly, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his hips. Her hands found his shoulders, steadying herself against him and his confidence. 

Terzo let out a low, shaky breath as she sat against him.

She was so warm and unknowingly so wet and ready for him - already soaking through the thin fabric that kept them apart. 

"Satana e Dio, you feel so good just like this," he huffed, his arms wrapping around her, letting one hand trail down her spine and rest at the small of her back. 

She whimpered in response, her fingers digging firmly into his shoulders. She could feel him under her now - completely, hot, solid, pulsing against her - making her rock forward into him. 

He groaned, deep and broken. 

Her face flushed, stilling all movement. 

"Stai bene? You can keep moving, amore." He assured her, his hand running down along her thigh and stopping at her hip. 

"Si, sto bene... I-I just don't know what I'm doing." She smiled shyly. 

Terzo smiled, indulging in a gentle laugh. "You think too hard, you're doing good. You're learning is all, I'm here to help you." 

His lips are on her neck, gently kissing the mark he had made earlier that evening. 

"Here," He placed both hands on her hips and pressed himself against her. 

She moaned quietly, watching his hands. 

"You move forward," He put pressure on her lower back, guiding her hips to drag forward. 

"And, backward." His thumbs pressed into her hipbones as he guided her to grind back. 

(Y/n)s breath hitched as she followed his gentle guidance - rolling her hips forward and back. The friction slow, muted, but intense. 

"Molto bene, Sorella. You learn so fast." He groaned, hands still on her hips, "And now, I can join you through this, si?"

He rolled his hips up into hers, matching her rhythm. His clothed cock sliding against her folds. 

"Ahh-" She cried out, grinding against him harder. 

Terzo moaned with her, hands snaking around to her ass. 

"You like this?" He asks breathlessly, "You like how that feels?"

She bit her lip, nodding frantically as she continued moving against him. "Y-yes, Papa." 

Her movements grew more confident, guided by the pressure of his hands and overwhelming heat between them. Every time she dragged her hips forward and back, his cock pressed harder against her - his boxers now soaked through. 

"Y-yeahh," Terzo sighed, his eyes falling shut. "Just like that, amore. You're so good, so fucking good for your Papa."

(Y/n) gasped - half in shock from hearing him curse like that, half drowning in the pool of lust she now found herself in. 

Her body ached in all of the right ways, pressure curling low in her stomach. Close to something she wasn't so sure had an end or not. It was upsetting, how good it felt and how badly she wanted more. 

She whimpered, clinging to him tighter, their foreheads resting on each others' as hips kept grinding. Her thighs shook from physical exertion, and muscles tensed each time their hips met with perfect pressure. 

"Papa, Papa, I- I need t-to stop-" She gasped, voice trembling as she slowed her movements. 

Terzo stopped too, gentle concern in his eyes. "Of course, stai bene?"

She steadied her breath, her chest rising and falling dramatically against his, "Si, si. I- it was just so much... Mi ha spaventato."

"Ah," Terzo nodded in understanding, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in closer.

"You were close to orgasm, no? You don't need to be scared - but the first time, it is overwhelming. I understand. Do you want to stop? Do you want me to finish you?" 

(Y/n) didn't really know what to say, and being completely honest with herself she didn't really know what she was doing. 

"Oh. Um, no I don't want to stop," She whispered into his neck, shaking her head, "But, I don't know if I'm ready to finish..." 

Terzo chuckled quietly, kissing her temple. "Okay, that is fine. There is plenty more we can do. Finishing never has to be the end goal, amore. Remember that, si?"

She nodded. 

"But," He continued, "a gentleman should always offer to finish you, si?" 

"Si, okay Papa." 

"Bene. Now, my little lamb, what can Papa do for you?"  

She bit her lip, practicing over and over in her head what she wanted to say, but unsure of how it would sound out loud. 

She sat up straighter in his lap, their gaze meeting with kind, devout looks, and half-lidded lustful eyes. 

"I... I want to see you," she said, her cheeks flushing as the words left her mouth. 

He tilted his head, encouraging. 

"I want to touch you... To know what you feel like." Her voice dropped lower, quiet almost like she didn't want him to hear her. 

Terzo's brow lifted in surprise, but he smiled - slow and sincere. "Ah... You want to please me?" 

She nodded, shy but sure. 

His hands slid gently from her soft, naked skin, patting the space next to him on the bed. "Come here."

She did, slowly tucking herself into his side. 

He tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, lifting his hips and shimmying out of them. 

One arm came to rest around her, the other went to rest down along his side, his hand gripping his own length - unable to stop himself from giving it a few strong strokes. 

(Y/n) laid against him, heart pounding, eyes trained on his movement and cock. 

He was... Intimidating. 

But, he was beautiful. She had nothing else to compare it to. Hard and flushed and waiting, resting in a slight curve against the dark patch of hair at his pelvis and lower stomach.

Her breath caught, unable to look away. 

He looked over at her, his arm around her tightening slightly but gently as always. "You can touch it if you want, but you also don't have to." 

She wanted to, but she hesitated - wanting to reach forward but finding herself pulling back. 

He felt her hesitation and reached for her hand. "Do you want me to show you?" 

"Yes." 

He smiled softly, guiding her hand with his, gently wrapping her fingers around him with his own. She felt him twitch beneath her touch, heard his breath hitch, and suddenly everything in her body lit up.

Warm, firm, heavy, he was real. This was real. 

He squeezed her hand tighter at the base then dragged it up along his shaft and back down. He tilted his head back with a groan. 

"Perfetto, just like that, up and down." His hand fell away, letting hers remain - leaving her to make her slow uncertain strokes. 

"So sweet with me, piccola, so gentle..." He pushed up into her hand, moving with her. 

(Y/n) was mesmerized by the way he responded to her touch. Her touch - she hadn't a clue she could do that to anyone.

He looked so soft and absolutely wrecked, arching ever so slightly, eyes fluttering shut. 

She kept her hand at a steady pace, not daring to go any slower, not daring to go any quicker. 

Her thumb ran along the underside of his shaft, her pressure more firm reaching the head as she smeared the pre-ejaculate over the tip and back down. 

Terzo tensed slightly, eyes snapping back open with a gasp. 

"Mi dispiace..." (y/n) whispered, slowing her movement. 

He laughed gently, deep from within his chest, "non devi dispiacerti, the tip is just sensitive." 

She smiled faintly, relieved, and continued with her gentle rhythm - this time with even more care, but more confidence, paying close attention to his responsive movement and breath. 

"You're going to ruin me..." He murmured, his voice rasped with disbelief. 

Her lips parted, heart pounding with a cocktail of pride and anxious desire, her thighs tightening instinctively around the ache building between them. She wanted more. She wanted all of him - inside her, praising her, the feeling of being full she didn't know she craved.

"I want you." Her voice was shy again, but full of determination. "Please? I want you inside me."

Terzo couldn't help it, he whimpered, bucking his hips up into her hand. "Dio mio, you cannot say that while I fuck your hand, piccola." 

She gasped at the way he pulsed in her grip, her hand a little slick and trembling from what she was doing to him - what he was letting her do to him. 

He reached to still her hand, his grip tender but shaking. He took his same hand to her cheek and pulled her forward, kissing her deep and slow before resting his forehead against hers. 

"Vieni qui, come back to my lap." He cooed, his thumb brushing gentle strokes along her cheekbone. 

She nodded, completely hypnotized by the sultry sound of his voice. 

And while she moved back to a similar position she had been in before, Terzo leaned over to the bedside table and stole a foil packet from the drawer. 

He held it between his teeth while he found (y/n)s hips with his hands, stopping her where she knelt just above his right thigh. 

He sat her there, humming at how warm she felt against him while he tore the packet open and pulled out the condom, tossing the foil to the side. 

(Y/n) looked back and forth between his face and his languid movement of rolling the rubber down his entire length. She knew what it was, those same little packets she had discovered snooping in his bathroom only this afternoon, the same foil that the church - and there for God - denounced. 

He didn't say anything, but placed his hands on her hips again and pulled her forward. 

Heavy breaths, the heady scent of desire and colognes lingered between them.

A hand slid between her legs, Terzo's fingers sliding along her slick, pressing a thumb to her clit. 

(Y/n) jolted against his touch, a small moan following. 

Terzo smiled - she was so ready for him and she barely had any understanding of her desires. 

He gripped himself with the hand he had used to touch her and lined himself to her entrance - rubbing against her to get wet, pushing the tip in just barely to tease her. "When you're ready, Sorella." He invited her, lips hot against her ear. 

She whimpered so tragically in heat, her palms resting against his shoulders, looking at him like she wasn't so sure whether she should continue or not. 

Terzo just encouraged her with soft kisses, still rubbing himself against her. 

And slowly, with determination, sincerity, and her lip between her teeth she sank herself onto him. 

"O-oh?" She moaned like it was a question. The stretching, the fullness, the slight twinge of pain mixed with absolute pleasure was all so much. 

Terzo's head fell against her shoulder, a growl leaving his throat as she fell flush against him. 

"Christo al inferno," he groaned, "you feel so good. So tight, Dio mio. So fuckin' tight, piccola..." He huffed, almost laughing in spite of himself. 

"Are you okay? Do you feel good?"

(Y/n) hummed timidly, nodding her head, hands still on his shoulders. "Ye-yes."

He went back to kissing on her, "Brava ragazza, you want to show your Papa how you move?" 

She gasped as he rolled his hips into her.

"You won't hurt me, Sorella. You set the pace. Forward and back like before, or up and down now if you're feeling ambitious." He smirked. 

She moved for him - hesitant at first, but slowly more willing. Getting herself used to the feeling, and movement, a kind of motion that made the stars shudder and Terzo curse and praise under his breath like a whispered prayer. 

"Ohhh, si... Proprio cosi, amore..." He moaned, voice cracking with need. He kissed along her throat, tasting her sweat, heat, and most holy surrender. 

His hands tightened at her hips, guiding her movements, moving her quicker, up and down, grinding her against him just the way he liked it - the way she would learn he liked it and the way he hoped she'd like it. 

"Fuck, my little lamb, you feel like heaven," he purred, forehead pressing to hers. 

She whimpered as she moved a little faster, hands pressed flat against his chest, riding him with trembling thighs and determination. Her rosary swung between them, clinking softly with each motion, breasts bouncing around the crucifix. 

Watching her was a treat - seeing her relax and loosen up into the touch and grinds, hearing her moan in confused pleasure, feeling the soft squeeze of her thighs and quiet gasps against his ear. It was driving him fucking mad. 

He gently bit down against her neck, licking over the hickey he had made there earlier. "You're gonna make me come," he whispered hoarsely, thrusting up into her. 

She cried out, "Mmmm, Pa-Papaaa!" His thrusts hitting a most sensitive spot inside of her. 

"Che cos'è, agnello?... You're so fucking perfect." He hissed, his grip digging harder into her soft hips, thrusts more calculated - fucking up into her once, twice, and a third time before completely falling apart. 

With a long and desperate moan, he came. 

Hard. 

His head dropping to her shoulder, with shaky breaths and sounds that almost sounded like crying if (y/n) didn't know better. His arms wrapped around her and hers wrapped around him, holing each other through his high. 

He continued moving his hips slowly, rocking into her, leaving gentle kisses along her shoulder and jaw. 

(Y/n) held tightly to him as if it were her who had orgasmed - tears welling in her eyes from the emotional bond and closeness she felt to the man naked against her. An act she'd only ever known to be sacred, and life-giving, now purely acted upon for pleasure. 

Terzo stopped moving, the two still resting against each other. 

"Amore mio, are you well?" He whispered, tracing lazy star patterns against her back, stretching just so that their eyes now met.

Her dazed, watery eyes told him everything and he laughed gently, "You outdid yourself." 

Her face flushed, but she didn't hide. She stayed wrapped around him, thighs sore and shaking, skin glowing from the warmth and flicker of candlelight. 

They stayed like that for a moment longer - his breath beginning to even, hers still a little stuttered, but hearts slowly syncing back into a calm and gentle rhythm. 

He kissed her cheeks, brushing away the small fallen tears with his lips. 

He shifted, easing her onto her back in the comfort of the mattress and tangled sheets - a collective and final, quiet moan shared between them as he pulled out. He pulled a blanket over her and held up a single finger, telling her to wait there. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed briefly, he stretched again, rolled his neck and shivered a little before getting up and tiredly walking to the bathroom. 

(Y/n) watched him - bare, the embodiment of temptation, ruined by her. She looked away quickly, tucking herself further into the sheets. Something about the domesticity of just watching him naked, just being himself, was far more intimate and sensual than the act itself. Her throat tightened. 

He returned just a few minutes later, a little more clean himself, holding a damp washcloth for her. 

"Just rest here tonight, piccolina," he got back into bed with her, one hand resting on her upper thigh, the other still holding the washcloth, "Let me take care of you." 

Her eyelids suddenly felt heavy, and the pressing weight of sleep was wrapping itself around her. She said nothing, but nodded, parting her legs as he cleaned her up softly. 

She hummed from the warmth of the cloth against her sensitive skin, and Terzo hummed with her, smiling as he watched her relax, kissing her chest with the most gentle praises and adoration. 

He went back to the bathroom to discard of the cloth before returning to her again, and when he did, (y/n) found herself curling into him without hesitation - like she belonged nowhere else in that moment. 

She nestled into the crook of his neck, her hand resting lightly against his chest - over his heart. His arm came around her with ease, fingertips brushing long and lazy strokes along the base of her spine. 

"Sleep my lamb, you are safe here." He whispered, the warmth of their entangled bodies already lulling her away.

He kissed her forehead, his eyes falling shut. "I pray you see the world in new light tomorrow."

She nodded, her eyes opening briefly - her gaze landing on the post of the headboard where a wooden rosary laid around, the cross of Saint Peter at the base. 

Her eyes shut again, feeling the weight of her own rosary that was pressed between two naked bodies. A man and a woman, not married, not conceiving, not doing anything she knew God to approve of. 

The urge to beg for forgiveness was muted, but still there. And in her own middle ground, she just apologized. Silently on Earth, but loudly towards Heaven. 

Forgive me, Mother Mary. Forgive me, Father... For I did not flee the wolf. I climbed into its mouth and asked to be devoured... And I know... I will be feasted upon again.

Chapter Text

(Y/n) had barely stirred when Terzo rose with the sun. 

He kissed on her bare shoulder, his hand sliding along the dip and curve of her side as she still lay curled against him. He stretched and snaked his way out from under the sheets - coming closer for one more moment, kissing her cheek.

"Buongiorno, agnello. Dormi un po', riposati un po'. Ci vediamo più tardi." He cooed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

She hummed in agreement, and that was the last of it, that was all she remembered before she was waking back up an hour or so later - alone, in his room, in his bed, naked. 

Sitting up slowly, the blankets falling away from her chest, she rubbed her eyes while trying to blink away the sleep. 

She ached in a way she was not familiar with, but it wasn't entirely unwelcoming... And that ache between her legs? It was still there. 

Still there like whatever had happened last night was not enough to satiate her needs. 

I'm a whore... I'm a biblical whore.

She groaned into her hands and shook her head. 

Just twenty-four hours ago she was climbing down the lattice wall of her convent, and already she found herself spreading her legs for a man she really, truly, didn't know so well. 

She turned back into the bed, screaming quietly into one of the pillows, keeping her face buried - quoting from the King James Version, Ezekiel 16:25. 

"Thou hast built thy high place at every head of the way, and hast made thy beauty to be abhorred, and hast opened thy feet to every one that passed by, and multiplied thy whoredoms!" 

Dramatically, she teased herself with a pretended sob, which soon turned into laughter, but soon enough she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes and she sat back up. 

She sniffled a little, still laughing lightly as she wiped away at the forming tears - caught in a complete mercurial meltdown. 

"I have played the harlot..." Her voice trembled slightly, in tone of her best wounded martyr. 

Whatever had happened yesterday, whatever had happened last night, it had all really happened. 

Her eyes widened slightly in disbelief. 

She groaned again, looking up to the ceiling like God might be watching, like he might smite her on the spot just to get it over with. 

"Lord... Dear God, please... If I am to be damned for this, please give me a sign..." 

She wiped away the last of her little tears, and sniffed again, holding onto the sheets. 

A knock came from the door. 

Her heart dropped, breathing stopped, and all attention was on whatever was before her. 

"God?" She asked quietly in disbelief. 

A soft, quiet voice followed after - "Sister (y/n)? My name is Sister Marta. Papa asked me to come check on you, can I come in?" 

(Y/n)s shoulders dropped in relief, not God but Sister Marta.

But she soon stiffened again. 

Oh no. Oh no, no. 

She would know she had sex with him. Oh, God. Did she already know? Was she going to laugh at her? AH!. Was she going to tell other Brothers and Sisters? 

Maybe God had struck her down already and this was Hell. This was her eternal punishment. 

"Oh, um un momento!" She called out, frantically looking around for her nightgown. 

What good would that do anyhow? She spent the night here. HERE in his room, a nightgown would only prove that point further. 

She scrambled from the bed with a hiss, fumbling a little bit on weak knees, thighs sore from whatever grinding and moving Terzo had her doing last night. Her rosary bounced against her chest, the cool beads and crucifix a humiliating reminder of what she had done.

The gown was folded and set on the wooden chest at the end of the bed. She picked it up with a lightening reflex and yanked it down her body, smoothing it out like it would make her look any less ravaged. 

She glanced at the bed. The sheets were a mess, pillows were tossed, the candle at the bedside table was burned to nothing but a pile of wax. There was no hiding what had happened. 

Hurriedly, she threw herself back on the mattress and tried to make it up without leaving Marta waiting outside too long. 

She climbed back off and looked at the way she somehow made the bed look worse. 

Huffing, she combed her fingers through her hair a few times as she walked to the door. 

She was doomed. 

Cracking open the door, she opened it just enough to peak her head through - hair still a little wild and eyes wide with guilt and the fear of confrontation. 

"Ciao..." She smiled meekly. 

"Buongiorno, cara." Sister Marta smiled gently on the other side - older than (y/n) by at least five years, black wavy hair framed her kind face, and her eyes were bright with the kind of love only an older sister or mother carried. She was holding a fresh set of towels, a robe similar to what she was dressed in, and a little velvet bag that looked like it carried makeup or things of the like. 

"Papa wanted me to check in on you. I'm going to the bathhouse and would love for you to come along, if you'd like? I think, and well Papa thought maybe you'd like to meet some of the other Sisters." She juggled with everything in her arms, but held out a towel and the robe to (y/n). 

(Y/n) nodded, the door opening up a little more as she took the things from Marta's arms. "Oh... Yes? Well.. I don't... Maybe I shouldn't?" 

She clutched the robe and towel in her arms, thinking maybe now wasn't the right time to commune with a bunch of the abbeys members. 

At least not yet. Not now when her skin was still flushed and there was deep purple mark on her neck from sucking. 

"No?" Marta asked, concern written all over her face, "Tesoro, I promise... If you're worried about judgement you're not going to find any here. Not from me anyway." 

She smiled, not pushing, not pressing her for further details.

"Well... Maybe some of the girls are a little judgy. But, we don't hang out with them." She tilted her head a little, a smile still on her face - welcoming and understanding. "I won't force you, but you should come. I think you'll fit right in with our little group."

(Y/n) relaxed a little in Marta's calm presence. She didn't seem like the kind of girl with mal intent, and getting clean was just what she needed.

A new routine. A new day. A new way of life. 

If there was a way to extract her soul and scrub it clean from the sin of last night, she was about to find out.  

She nodded a little, looking behind her again - like she was making sure she wasn't leaving anything behind. 

"Okay."

"Molto bene!" Marta beamed, ready to grab (y/n) by the hand and lead her into her new belonging. 

"We can go get breakfast after, or brunch, or whatever you wanna call it? I don't know the kitchen is kind of open all day around here," she stood aside as (y/n) came out of the room, shutting the door behind her. 

They linked arms and made their way down the short corridor and down the stairs towards the bathhouse. Bare feet padding softly against the stone floors - (y/n) kept her gaze on the floor, half afraid of running into someone, half afraid of catching her own reflection in a window or mirror.

"Typically, the bathhouse isn't this busy. But Mondays are a little chaotic with the first Mass of the week, routines, and everything," Marta chimed as they turned right into the girls' house.

"So, just breathe." With a practiced demeanor she took a deep breath and exhaled gracefully, "Don't let the jackals stare you down or jump you like you're fresh meat."

Suddenly, (y/n) was much more nervous than she was before - like she could already feel the stares from inside of the bathhouse. 

Marta had said that like she herself had been jumped by the jackals before, survived, and now carried a shiv in her robe. 

"Wait- I. I don't know." (y/n) stopped her. 

Marta just smiled, still kind but with a layer of scheming underneath, "Come on, Sorella. I know its not half as bad as those bathhouses back at your convent." 

She didn't allow for anymore objection and just lead her in.

Stepping into the familiar humidity of the night before, (y/n) felt like she had entered a scene out of some Odyssean epic - nude girls in the big pool, some leaning over the edge washing and braiding each others' hair, others wrapped in towels sharing conversation and light laughter as they readied themselves for the day. All very siren-like in the way they would all be able to easily seduce the weakest of man who stumbled upon them here. 

There was rose oil in the air, steam clinging to stone walls, and glimmering water on skin like the dew on freshly bloomed lilies. The room felt enchanted by the energy of each woman - young and old alike.

But that energy soon stilled. Something more quiet, calculated, less warm - and (y/n) soon began to feel the regret of feeling like she had been ready to be perceived. 

She clutched onto her things as if it were something that would shield her from the unwanted glances and an unwanted truth. 

But the truth came quick. 

Marta kept leading her forward, but she could hear the whispers and sense the looks of judgment that followed her when she passed by. 

"That's her isn't it? The novitiate?"

"Mhm. Bold of her to show up at all, don't you think?"

"Looking like that? Acting like she didn't just have Papa's fingers inside her? Very bold..." 

(Y/n) held onto her things a little tighter, stepping a little closer into Marta's presence as they just continued to walk by - seemingly unbothered. 

"...I bet she thinks she's special, they always do don't they?"

"I'm sure the Catholic guilt is eating her alive. A nun? Here? She won't last a week." 

"That, or by the end of the week she's pregnant with the antichrist..."

A louder laugh broke through the tense silence of the bathhouse, one Sister throwing her hand over another's mouth while she too giggled quietly trying to quiet the other one. 

Marta's gaze flicked to (y/n) who was almost as pale as a ghost. Some of the Sisters were catty, the younger ones especially - she knew that - but, she just stood tall and placed an arm around her. Assuring her she would be safe in her presence.

"Oh, woe unto the woman clothed in scarlet! The whore of Babylon comes before us." A younger woman looking to be somewhere around (y/n)s age - mid to late twenties - mutedly (but loud enough) cried out to her little group of friends like she were acting in some quiet and dramatic private play. 

The other girls stifled laughter as they watched her walk by, whispering amongst themselves. 

"Sister Ruby. How are you today?" Marta stopped in front of the little group, a smug smile on her lips, turning (y/n) to face all of them.

Ruby cleared her throat and smiled back - more smug. "Sister Marta... I'm fine. How are you?"  

Marta tilted her head sweetly, humming softly. "Oh, just fine. I was just getting Sister (y/n) settled in here - you haven't met her yet, have you?" 

Ruby shook her head, glancing back to her friends. "Ciao, Sorella. I do hope you've had nothing but warm welcomes and open arms since you've arrived."

(Y/n) tried to smile sincerely, but she knew it looked more meek than anything, "Grazie, Sorella... I do look forward to getting to know you all better."  

Ruby's eyes twinkled - something dark and playful. "Oh, I'm sure we'll all get very acquainted soon enough. We do hope Papa is guiding you with a kind but, firm hand?" 

Marta laughed dryly, her arm tightening around (y/n). "Yes, we know he is. Papa cares deeply for us all does he not? Nothing but the best for his Sorelle." 

She tugged on (y/n) lightly, finally guiding her away from what she had forced the other Sister's to face - the gentle eyes of a young woman, someone lost in her faith, a girl who didn't deserve the whispers behind her back. 

"Arrivederci, Sorella. Hope to see you around." Ruby rolled her eyes a little before turning back to her conniving group of jackals.  

Marta too rolled her eyes, then looked at (y/n).

"Trust me. We aren't all like them," she laughed a little lightheartedly, trying to lighten the mood. "I'll introduce you to the other wild ones." 

The courtyard was already loud with talk and the chime of dishware from late morning breakfast by the time Terzo arrived - later than usual, glowing, far too much pep for a Monday morning. 

Copia squinted up at him from his espresso. 

Secondo rolled his eyes, putting out a cigarette. 

Primo attempted to remain blissfully unaware of his overwhelming presence - all sunshine and sin. 

"Fratelli, I have news." Terzo smiled before them, refusing to take a seat before he was heard. 

Secondo groaned, "Per favore. Spare us." 

"I will not!" Terzo frowned, "You are my closest confidants! To whom else would I come to?"

He grabbed Secondo by the hand, kissing his brothers knuckles - to which Secondo pulled away quickly, wiping the back of his hand against his pants. 

"Especially you, Secondo. My twin, my best friend, my brother in every unholy rite." Terzo held his chest as if he were wounded.

"We are not twins." Secondo scowled 

Terzo just nodded, "We are practically twins! Four months is practically, fratello." 

"Out with it, Terzo... Is this about sex? It seemed obvious from your sermon." Primo interjected.

Terzo gasped, "Obvious? You think so?"

"The whole congregation thought so." Primo sighed.

"It was less of a sermon and more of a... Vivid reenactment." Copia muttered quietly into his cup, though, still loud enough for him to be heard,

Terzo finally sat down in his seat, sinking lazily into it. "Well. What can I say? I was moved. Simply inspired by the unholy spirit, or perhaps holy... The holy body of our sweet little lamb." 

Copia choked on his espresso. 

Secondo quirked an eyebrow, suddenly a little more interested in where the conversation was heading. 

Primo sighed. "You didn't." 

It sounded more like a warning than anything. Setting down his paper with the heaviness of a man who knew he wasn't going to like what he heard next. 

"Oh yes. I did." Terzo beamed, "and it was beautiful!" 

"She came to me - in the dark of the night, dressed in nothing but guilt and a nightgown, asking for me," He grabbed a peach and a knife from the center of the table, "And who was I to deny her? She was so brave. So very eager to learn..." 

Everyone at the table groaned, hoping he would stop there. 

But, of course he wouldn't. 

"I can't even begin to describe to you," He sighed, "The absolute tragedy it would have been for that sweet little body of hers to be cloistered. Forever!" He groaned, cutting the peach into slices, juice a filthy metaphor as it dripped down his forearm. 

He set the fruit down on a plate, licking his fingers clean. 

Primo had decided again to try and ignore his brother's ways. 

Secondo had lit another cigarette, listening, but not giving Terzo his full attention. 

And Copia... He was a little more red in the face than he would have cared to admit. 

"Her curves? Cazzo..." Terzo looked like he was about to weep, making the shape of an hourglass with his fingers and squeezing his hands into fists at the bottom. 

"Ooof, she is a goddess. She is Venus herself, swept ashore by the wind and the sea - she is everything. I would worship her until my last breath." 

He grabbed Copia by the sleeve, pulling his hand close. 

"She held me. She held me like this! Like I was her savior," He moaned a little at his own words. 

Copia tried to pull his hand back, a deeply alarmed look on his face - like Terzo was about to take his virginity next. 

"Terzo please," Copia gave him a look of disgust, yanking his hand free. 

"Do you not think this is a little wrong? Talking about her like this behind her back?"

"Cardinale! I would never disrespect my lamb so. She is a woman, born again in sin - I am simply crying out in excelsis into the heavens for her." Terzo smiles, love drunk and more horny than he was letting on. 

"I agree with Copia." Primo peaked his eyes over his paper, glaring between them.

"Oh. Well, grazie, old man. Why don't you two fuck off about it then? I at least know someone here has questions for me." 

The whole table turned to look at Secondo - exhaustion in his eyes, cigarette hanging from his lips, looking like he did have questions but really didn't want the answers to them. 

Terzo looked at him, grinning like the devil - like he was ready to rapid fire every little thing he knew about (y/n)s naked body. 

Secondo cleared his throat, taking a deep breath and exhaling sharply. He gestured in a circular motion, the cigarette in between his fingers, "Was she..."

"Tight? Good? Loud? Have the most supple, perky, more-than-a-handful tits? How was her ass? Divine... You ask a very loaded question, fratello. And the answer to all of it is yes." Terzo was still grinning, not even giving Secondo the time to finish. 

Everyone groaned, and strictly not out of pleasure. 

Primo stood up, Copia was deciding if he should follow, and Secondo looked like a man with many regrets. 

"Che cosa? Don't act like you didn't enjoy all the details," Terzo acted surprised by their response.

He was the king of flamboyant sexuality and lived to make his brothers uncomfortable, and watch them squirm. "Now, should I begin with my orgasm or her almost orgasm?" 

As thick as the air was with unwelcome sexual tension for each of the brothers and Copia during breakfast, the air was much more thick with humidity and little judgmental comments in the bathhouse. 

(Y/n) stayed close to Marta, standing by as she put some things away into her little shelf.

Many of the Sisters were beginning to clear out - finished with their baths, routines, and the like. Leaving the bathhouse a little more quiet, a little more intimate, and a little less judgmental. 

"Marta! Is that the new girl?" A voice rang out from the pool - a girl with deep olive skin, and hair as dark as the night sky sat submerged in the water, her head just barely peaking over the side of the pool, hair stuck to her face. 

Marta looked up from her shelf and smiled, "Si, questa e (y/n)." 

She gave (y/n) a gentle nudge towards the bath, coaxing her forward. 

The dark-haired girl pulled herself up a little higher out of the water, eyes glinting with mischief as she folded her arms over the stone ledge. "Ciao, (y/n)... Your arrival was foretold in the ancient scripture."

(Y/n) felt herself tense a little, almost stepping back towards Marta. 

Another girl - a cropped blond bob and a soft freckled face - splashed water at the first. "Don't scare her off, Birdie."

"I'm not scaring her," Birdie stuck out her tongue towards the other, splashing her right back. "I'm welcoming her. She knows why she's here." 

"Uhg, you two are idiots." Another girl walked by, thumping Birdie on the forehead with a flick. Tall, full-bodied, long and thick dark hair, she walked up to (y/n) and stuck out her hand. "I'm Sister Connor." 

(Y/n) took her hand and shook it. 

"Per favore, ignore those two. Sister Sadie and Sister Birdie - they're biblically feral." 

(Y/n) let out a quiet little nervous laugh, not so sure what to do with herself. 

"You'll join us in the bath won't you?" Another girl snaked an arm around her, leading her forward. "We've got the good soap, and lotion. Sister Bene makes it from goat's milk!" 

"Oh, uh-" (y/n) hesitated just a little. 

Marta was soon back at her side, prying off the hands of the other girl, "Felicity, you didn't even introduce yourself. Give her some space." 

Felicity - thin, wide-eyed and young - took (y/n)s hand and squeezed it gently. "Scusa, Sorella. I'm Sister Felicity, proud youngest Sorella in the abbey." She beamed. 

The other girls booed, Sadie and Birdie splashing water towards her.

"She wears it like a medal of honor," Marta pushed Felicity back lightly, a playful glare on her face, "makes us feel real good about ourselves." 

Felicity huffed and walked towards the pool, "sorry you're ten years older and bitter about it." She blew Marta a kiss and dropped her robe before jumping into the water. 

Still clutching her towel like it was armor, (y/n) stayed hesitant at Marta's side for a moment longer - but the glow of the girls' laughter, the ease of the familiarity between them, their kind and teasing nature, made it hard to resist their offers to join. 

"Andiamo, Sorella! You don't need to be shy," Birdie called to her from the bath, "we're all good girls, we'll only stare for a minute." 

Marta nudged her a little, "don't make me throw you in," she teased under her breath, "we have a strict policy against postulants outside the pool." 

(Y/n) smiled a little at that. It felt natural, it felt good to be teased in a kind way by girls who already felt like they would be friends. 

"Come on, no pressure, but, you should join." 

Marta took her own steps towards the pool, dropping her robe and getting in - submerging herself before taking a seat next to Felicity. 

(Y/n) looked behind her, most of the other girls had gone. She looked forward again at the girls waiting for her - they stared like they were waiting for their forbidden lover to get naked. 

A quiet breath to herself, she gathered the hem of her nightgown and pulled it over her head, quickly grabbing the towel back to slightly cover herself. 

"Mamma mia! Sorella (y/n)!" Birdie shot out from the water, whistling. 

"You were a nun!?" Sister Connor came from behind her and stopped at her side, giving her a once over. 

(Y/n) tried to hide her burning cheeks behind her towel, but she couldn't stop herself from smiling, just a little bit. 

"Uh, clearly one of those nuns from those weird sexy priest calendars." Felicity chimed in and Sadie wiped water from her eyes. 

The girls all laughed, leaving (y/n) still flushed from compliments she had never received before. 

"You're very beautiful, Sorella," Marta smiled laughing quietly, holding out her hand as an invitation. 

(Y/n) didn't need to take her hand but followed the invitation as a guide.

She submerged herself in the water, deciding against wetting her hair as she had washed it the day before. 

A small applause erupted from their little group - each Sister agreeing her entering the pool called for celebration.

Sadie came up to her, holding out a bar of soap like it was treasure and Birdie slid over a little decanter full of a bath oil. 

"Sooo," Birdie began, "What's it like being a runaway nun?" 

(Y/n) smiled and shook her head. "Oh, well I'm not a nun. Just a novitiate." 

"Mmm, close enough, no?" Sadie chimed, eyes full of mischief.  

(Y/n) shrugged, supposing it was. 

"I imagine it's been like The Sound of Music,"  Felicity sighed, shutting her eyes like she was daydreaming. 

(Y/n) laughed this time - though it sounded like more of a scoff than anything. "Much less singing, forbidden romance, and fascism. More deep religious guilt and conflict..."  

The girls hummed, nodding in agreement. 

"Forbidden romance, huh? You sure there's none of that going on?" Birdie perked up, eyes alight with wicked interest. 

(Y/n)s brow shot up and she shook her head quickly, "No. No, of course not... Just the whole conflict part..." 

"Mmhmm, a conflict of interest. A certain novice didn't find herself in the arms of a certain captain?" Birdie cleared her throat, "Papa? I mean..."

The girls giggled softly, (y/n) sunk herself deeper into the water - attempting to blame the red in her cheeks from the heat of the pool. 

Marta nudged Birdie, take it easy, shining in her eyes. 

"H-he's been nothing but kind to me..." (y/n) said quietly. 

"Ohhh, we know," Felicity was out of the pool now, ringing out her hair. 

Connor held up her hand towards the other girls, "and it's nothing wrong with you, Sorella. Papa is just... Charismatic?" 

"Bold." Birdie supplied.

"The devil in silk." Sadie grinned. 

"Daring and kind." Marta smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind (y/n)s ear.

"Wicked..." Felicity purred. 

"A man-child." A new voice chimed in, an older woman dressed in fresh linen robes and sandals, pinning up her long white hair. 

"A man of simple pleasures. Don't let these girls scare you back to your convent, Sorella. Papa means no harm, and neither do these five."  

The girls glanced at each other, giggling again, a lighter, friendly tone. 

"Sister Bene, you always ruin our fun." Birdie said with a mock tone of exasperation. 

"Sister Birdie, you always take it a little too far," Sister Bene chided, standing near the pools edge, "someone needs to be responsible for this group, let our new Sister breathe hmm?" 

(Y/n) smiled nervously, thanking her without a word for putting an end to the poking.

Sister Bene placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, a touch warm and welcoming. "Benvenuta all'abbazia, Sorella. Sono Sorella Benedetta, you can call me Bene." 

Her dark eyes were light with a deep understanding, almost as if she knew exactly what (y/n) was going through. Her age only proved her grace and openness - she had seen the many Sisters before (y/n) come into this world and fight a similar fight. 

"Piacere di conoscerti," (y/n) nodded, "Sono Sorella (y/n)." 

They exchanged a final knowing look and Bene removed her hand, stepping back. 

"You're most welcome here, (y/n). The teasing? Just a way of welcoming you into the group, si? They're good girls. For the most part." 

"We're the best girls!" Sadie called to Bene as she waved them off. 

The pool grew quiet, each of the girls finishing up washing their hair and the rest of themselves with herby soaps and floral oils. 

They took their time rinsing and continuing in soft banter while drying themselves. Hair was brushed out, braided, fluffed, tied up, or left down. There was lotion on skin, panties and stockings pulled up, the occasional bra thrown at someone else, the scent of coconut, lavender, and tea tree misted in the air carried with soft laughter. 

"Did you bring many clothes, (y/n)?" Felicity asked, pulling a little linen sundress over her silky slip, "Or do we need to make you some dresses out of old curtains?" 

There was friendly laughter from everyone as (y/n) shook her head, "No, I don't have much. I didn't have much to bring from the convent anyway."

She looked down at the nightgown she was holding to her chest, just something to throw on before getting a more appropriate robe for the day back in her room. 

"Oh, we could tell," Birdie chimed in, pulling on a pair of loose pants and cinching them at the waist, "you're looking like your Reverend Mother is about to come in and berate you with a ruler."

"Birdie..." Marta rolled her eyes and gave her a glare with warning. She turned to her little shelf and pulled out a small bundle of folded clothes. A couple of shorter muslin and linen tunics in cream and deep green, and a pair of wide shorts with a few simple, plain tees. 

"Here, I grabbed these for you. Figured you might want something a little more comfortable." She tossed them to (y/n), giving her a knowing smile. 

(Y/n) caught the bundle against her chest, surprise and relief in her eyes. "Oh. Grazie, Marta." 

Marta nudged her a little with her shoulder, "Don't worry, Sorella. We won't let you wander around here in nothing but your nightgown." 

The cool stone of the corridor felt refreshing against (y/n)s still warm skin as the girls filed out of the bathhouse, their still damp hair clinging to cheeks and necks, and the scent of flora and herbs of soap and lotion trailed behind them. light pooled into the hallway from the long windows that ran across the tops of the walls casting dappled shadows across the floor, and the faint hum of late morning conversation echoed softly off of the vaulted ceilings. 

She chose to wear the little olive green tunic with the soft muslin overlay of the same color that tied at the sides and accentuated her waist. Her rosary laid under the fabric of her dress, but stayed close and warm against her skin - like her own comforting secret. 

Marta looped an arm with hers, pulling her close as they made their way down the hall. "Feeling like less of a stranger now?" She whispered, her voice warm and gentle. 

"A little." (y/n) gave a small, genuine smile, her body finally feeling like it was beginning to relax. 

Birdie caught up with them taking (y/n)s other arm in hers. "Oh, you're one of us now, Sorella. I think you're the most feral nun I've ever met -"

Feral?

That wasn't exactly the word (y/n) would have used to describe herself, but it sure seemed like a sincere complement.  

"Novice or not, you took a leap of faith and left something established to begin something new...That takes guts. A lot more courage than you think, and more courage than I think the majority of any of the Brothers or Sisters here have."

Faith. (y/n) was falling from it, just barely holding on to the last of it like some desperate and pathetic prayer she thought would solve everything. 

And courage? Please... She thought - I am a coward for running and not standing to face God in all of my doubts...

But, all she did was smile. "Grazie, Birdie." 

"Mmhm, prego, Sorella. Just you wait," Birdie left her side, jogging a little ahead to catch up with Sadie, "We'll take you out to the forest to dance naked with the devil!"

She laughed like she was already scheming, pushing Sadie forward into the refectory. 

(Y/n) looked at Marta, a nervous look in her eyes and a polite smile on her face. 

"Non preoccuparti," Marta chuckled, "She's only half serious." 

The refectory was still bustling with life when they entered, long wooden tables half-filled with Brothers and Sisters chatting over bread, fruit and simple fare. The tables outside under the pergola were already spoken for, and (y/n) found herself looking out to the table where she had dined with Terzo, his brothers, and the Cardinal the night before - no one was there. 

Marta kept her arm linked with (y/n)s, guiding her to the end of one of the tables where the rest of the girls were already gathered - voices bright with laughter and easy conversation. 

As they sat, (y/n) could feel the few pairs of eyes that lingered on her, the curiosity of Brothers and some other Sisters who had not yet had the chance to meet the new novice in their midst. Glancing up, she caught the gaze of a tall, broad-shouldered Brother with shoulder length hair, a neatly trimmed beard and sharp eyes. Surrounded by a handful of younger men he paused, his cup halfway to his lips, his brow lifting as he studied her for a moment before nodding politely and returning to his conversation. 

Sadie and Felicity caught the exchange, both smirking at each other like they had a secret. 

"Uh oh, looks like you caught Brother Silas' attention..." Felicity grinned, pouring a little cream into the tea she was making. 

"Brother Silas?" (y/n) said with caution, looking back over at the group of men. 

"Mmmhm. If Papa Terzo was Jesus, Silas would be Peter." Birdie jumped in, not able to restrain herself from giving her opinion. 

"Him, Brother Elias, Luca, and Spencer - we call them the disciples."

Birdie leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But, don't worry, Sorella. They're mostly harmless." She glanced over at the cluster of Brothers, her smirk widening. 

"Watch yourself around Elias - the tall, skinny, dirty blond. That one's got a thing for mystical visions and holy rapture. You catch his eye, and he'll write poetry about you for weeks." 

Sadie snorted, leaning herself in as well, watching as (y/n) looked back and forth between the girls that surrounded her. 

"And Spencer - The older one, well like Papa's age - He's the serious one. Quiet, thoughtful, always has his nose in some kind of scripture. He's real kind, but he'll study you like a specimen if you're not careful. I would know..."

Connor giggled, leaning across the table to catch (y/n)s eye, her croissant never making it to her mouth before she needed to chime in. "And Luca? Oh, he will flirt with anything that moves. The wind blows through the grass on a warm evening? He's on it. Sweet as honey, but a total menace if he catches you alone in the garden - or anywhere really." 

(Y/n) found herself overwhelmed with this information she wasn't entirely sure she knew what to do with. It just sounded like a good rule of thumb was to just stay away from these men in every sense. 

"The Brothers are good men." Marta patted her hand softly, "A little eccentric in their own ways, but good."

"Give them some time, they won't be staring at you forever like you're a hot new item on the menu for the equinox." Felicity sipped her tea like she wasn't just the one to drop a crucial piece of the puzzle in (y/n)s new life. 

"The equinox?" (y/n) perked up a little, the group falling silent as she picked up a sugar cube, dropped one in her own tea and brought another to her lips. "I've heard that mentioned a few times now... We're talking about the spring equinox, si?"

The girls all remained silent, giving each other a knowing look - almost silently deciding whether or not they should be sharing this information with her.

"Si... Sort of." Marta said gently. 

"An annual celebration. Spring is rebirth, sensuality, fertility..." Connor nodded along with Marta. 

Birdie rolled her eyes and grabbed (y/n)s hand. "Why are you skirting around her question? Just be honest, she's a big girl-"

"Birdie. Tread gently, won't you? She's new to this world," Connor glared, "You don't want to make our Catholic novitiate uncomfortable do you?"

The growing tension made (y/n) feel like shrinking in on herself, and for the first time in her life, being called Catholic made her cringe. 

"I'm not Catholic." She said plainly.

The girls fell quiet again. 

With a tight smile, Connor shook her head in apology. "Scusa." 

(Y/n) too shook her head, "Non devi dispiacerti. It's okay. B-but I'm here now aren't I? This isn't my convent anymore..." 

She felt her lip begin to quiver a little, not for anything in particular, but perhaps for the weight of saying what she had out loud. Like she was finally allowing herself to release that little bit of faith she was clinging onto. 

The group was quiet, watching her with reverence - each acknowledging her feelings with that same deep respect. 

"So," she began with a deep breath, "The equinox?..."

Everyone looked at Birdie - who at this point had a mouth full of bread and jam - expecting an answer from her. 

She was the one who had seemed so eager to answer before, it was only fitting. 

"Oh, me?" She coughed a little and wiped her mouth. "Right... Ahem. (y/n). I'll be blunt. It's not a bad thing! Nothing weird like sacrifices or anything, don't worry. But, I'll be honest-"

Birdie looked at each of the other Sisters who waited with blank stares - afraid of what her honesty would intel. 

"The equinox is just one big fuck-fest-"

(Y/n) gasped quietly, her hand immediately reaching for her chest, reaching for her rosary out of instinct. 

"Yeah, it's about rebirth, and it's symbolic, it's been happening for as long as the abbey has been standing - but, lets be for real, it's an orgy of biblical proportions." Birdie finished with a smile. 

"The abbey becomes the city of Babylon for one night each year," Sadie had decided it was time to add her two cents, "A night of defying God, a night where each member becomes the embodiment of human pride and ambition..." 

Marta jumped in next, "Of course, no one is forced to join. You don't have to worry about being dragging into something you'd rather not participate in, Sorella." 

Before (y/n) could get another word in, someone spoke for her. 

"Trying to scare away our new postulant already with myths of the equinox?" 

"Brother Silas, shouldn't you be picking up after Papa's paper trail?" Connor answered him with her own question, attempting to spare (y/n) from interrogation, "It is a Monday, we all know how busy he gets at the beginning of the week."  

Silas smiled like he knew he could ruin Connor with the things he knew about her, "Sister Connor, you're always looking out for me." 

Two of the other Brothers came up behind him - Elias and Luca. 

"You're Sister (y/n)." Elias looked at her as though he had seen her in a vision. 

"Oh, uh, Si... How did you-"

"Know?" Another voice, Luca - combing back his dark hair with a small comb and slicking it back with his free hand like he was trying to impress someone. "I think everyone knows who you are now, (y/n). It's not often we get new beautiful faces in the abbey - let alone sweet little Catholic novitiates."

"She's not a Catholic." Birdie, Sadie, Felicity, and Connor said at the same time. 

Luca rose his hands in defense, "Scusate, sorelle! I meant no offense. Just trying to welcome our sweet Sorella to the abbey."

Birdie rolled her eyes, reaching for her mug. "Welcome her with more of your bedroom eyes, why don't you?"

"Birdieee," Luca cooed, "are you still into girls, or did I just catch you being a little flirtatiously jealous?" 

"Ew? Last I checked I'm still into tits, and looking at you now it doesn't seem like yours have grown much." Birdie pretended to gag. 

Luca looked down at his chest, his hands coming up to his pecks. "Ahi! looks like I'll need to stuff my bra better next time - I thought I was starting to get your attention. I thought what we had was special."

"Special?" Birdie scoffed, a small laugh following, "The only thing special about you, Luca Romano, are your delusions." 

A hand from Brother Silas came to rest upon Luca's shoulder, his other patting Birdie on hers.

"Va bene, va bene! We just came over to say hello - I didn't mean for this to become an argument over Luca's training bra."

He looked at (y/n), those same sharp eyes from before now softer. "Benvenuta, Sorella. If you need anything, just ask hmm?" 

(Y/n) nodded. "Grazie, Fratello. That is very kind of you." 

Silas hummed, bowing his head for a quick moment as his eyes flicked over her a final time. 

"Andiamo, Fratelli. Lets leave the girls to their black magic and sinning." 

Elias - who hadn't said much - passed behind and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder for a brief second. "Benvenuta, (y/n). We'll see you around." 

They shared a parting smile and he followed Silas out of the refectory. 

"Ciao, bella." Luca - who had said too much - found his way into (y/n)s hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips and leaving her with a parting kiss. 

The girls all rolled their eyes. 

"Don't let these girls ruin your innocence, si?"

It was just playful banter, but he sounded more serious than (y/n) cared to admit. 

"Goodbye, Luca." Birdie began pushing him away, more than hoping that he'd get the hint.

He raised his hands slightly, letting go of (y/n). "Si, si! Arreviderci, amore mio." He blew a kiss towards Birdie. 

She only responded with a middle finger. 

The refectory never felt dark in any sense, but once the looming presence of the Brothers had gone it somehow felt lighter. (y/n) watched them leave, Elias and Luca shoving each other with shoulders, joining up with another group of Brothers and Sisters that were leaving as well. 

She held the hand Luca had given a little kiss to in her other, running a thumb over her still faintly bruised knuckles. It felt strange - the flirtation - like a foreign tongue she was still trying to understand and learn. Other than Terzo, no other man had touched her in such a way before - let alone talked to her like that. 

"Honestly, the nerve of him," Birdie muttered, shaking her head with a kind of fondness. "You give a man one half-hearted compliment on his cooking or just look in his general direction, and suddenly he's planning out your entire life together." 

The girls laughed, and (y/n) forced a small smile. Still, she felt as if she were a fawn caught out in the open, her new surroundings overwhelming in their strangeness, their beauty, their subtle danger. She took a deep and composed breath to herself, trying to settle, trying to remind herself that she was not the same timid, shrinking girl she had been made to feel like in her convent. 

No. 

She was different now. Though perhaps still unsure, she was growing. 

As the morning wore on, the chatter around picked up again, the Sisters slipping into familiar conversation that (y/n) only half listened to. She watched the sun slowly make it's way from east and towards the west, letting her mind wander. 

As kind and as welcoming as this group of girls had been, she was beginning to feel the weight of her reality again - that constant guilt that settled in her chest, the overwhelming pressure of wanting to appear fine even when she wasn't. 

She stood from the table, longing to find some comfort in the confines of her own room, or perhaps in the arms of Terzo. 

"I, um. I'm going to go back to my room for awhile." She announced. 

The girls looked up to her, Marta smiling in a way that brought a sense of quiet comfort. "Okay, we'll see you later." She assured. 

(Y/n) smiled and nodded - she didn't need to say anything else. 

"Ciao, (y/n)!" Birdie beamed. 

"Join us for dinner tonight?" Felicity asked. 

"We can come get you!" Sadie suggested. 

"We might be hanging out in the gardens later, come find us." Connor smiled. 

She returned their smiles, feeling the warmth of their easy acceptance even as her heart felt heavy. 

"Grazie," she said softly, smoothing down the fabric of her little tunic with shaky hands. "I'll see you all later." 

With that, she slipped away from the table - the gentle, comforting hum of her newfound Sisters fading behind her as she left the refectory and stepped into the main hallway - her mind drifting to the thought of those spiral stairs in the library and what may lie beyond. 

Chapter Text

The main hallway was warm with a now early afternoon breeze, some small groups of Brothers and Sisters scattered around in their respective circles chatting, debating, conversing. It made (y/n) feel like she had stepped into some great and sacred symposium of philosophy in Ancient Greece - and she was the newest student, and eyes bore heavy witness to each thing she did, speculating if she'd be worth anything or be able to contribute to their philosophies or not. 

She made an effort to hold herself with a confident presence, but passing through the hall she suddenly found herself becoming hyperaware that she was a woman. 

A woman with breasts, with curves, a kind smile she'd give to anyone who looked in her direction. She crossed her arms, her fingers toying with the hem of her sleeves as she unintentionally made herself look smaller and meek. 

She had never been an object of desire, and as far as she could remember, she had never been surrounded by so many men. 

It was a woman's fault - if she recalled correctly - for the fact a man would lust after her. A household fact. A convent fact. Something she had heard loudly and often.

It played in her head like a taunt since she had dressed in new clothes, and now as she walked the hall with each group pausing to watch her as she moved by. Brothers pausing mid-sentence, Sisters looking over their shoulders. Watching her. Measuring her. 

Proverbs 5:3-5.

For the lips of a strange woman drops as an honeycomb, and her mouth is smoother than oil: but her end is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged sword. Her feet go down to death; her steps take hold on hell.

(Y/n) hadn't spoken a single word, hadn't shared a single smile. But still, she felt dangerous. Uncomfortable. Like something unholy disguised as everything soft and holy - a girl teetering on the edge of purgatory to hell with each sway of her hips. 

Continuing forward with that guilt wrapped around her like a cardigan worn too often, she saw him before he saw her. 

Wearing a set of robes she hadn't seen on him - black, purple, opulent. Gloved hands moving in wild expression as he attempted to convey some message to his listeners - Brother Silas, Luca, Elias, and Spencer among them. His face painted in white and black, for what (y/n) could only assume was for a Mass practice, but it was unmistakably him. 

Terzo.

She had thought she was ahead of any action of his until his eyes snapped to hers with a precision that made her still in her steps, almost as if he could sense her very presence. 

Time seemed to fall into a lazy slow motion as she watched him lift a finger to excuse himself from his disciples mid conversation - the look in his eyes conveying he'd never been happier to see anyone ever, like suddenly the world was filled with rose petals and the sound of a deeply romantic orchestral piece with strings and piano. 

He practically waltzed over to her, taking her hands into his when he reached her and bringing both knuckles to his lips, watching her like she were his passion project. 

"Amore..." Terzo cooed, "You look radiant in green." 

(Y/n) shook her head but a smile stole her denial. 

"You met Marta?" He asked before she could say anything. "And the others? I hope they treated you well, hm?" 

She nodded. 

"Yes. They were all very kind. I hope to get to know them better."

"Bene!" Terzo beamed. "You will. I sensed Sorella Marta might be just what you need in a friend."

There was a beat of silence as he just looked over her, their hands still together as (y/n) tried to avert his gaze. 

"You're feeling alright? After last night, I mean." He asked softly. 

(Y/n) perked up a little, looking to her left and right at those who still had eyes on her, on them. 

"Y-yes. I'm alright. I'm good." She looked back to him, "I feel good." 

Terzo's expression softened, his hands giving hers a gentle squeeze. 

"Brava, Sorella. That is all I could ask for." His voice lowered into something reverent as he melted at her pure honesty. 

Another pause. Another look. He didn't move, and she didn't either. 

"You've noticed it, haven't you?" He asked quietly, "The difference, the change, the new? A good different. A good change. A beautiful new. You glow, Sorella."

(Y/n)s cheeks flushed and she shook her head again with a subtle laugh, "It's just the green."

Terzo laughed gently with her, leaning in slightly, dropping his voice so only she would hear. "Don't be so humble, cara mia, it is not the dress. It's you." 

He straightened himself, his hands now finding her shoulders. 

"Wear it proudly, this new you. You've made sacrifices for her, don't let her down now." 

She didn't know what to say, only staring into his eyes with her lips softly parted. 

It was like he had taken every doubt she had faced today alone and simply wiped them away as easy as wiping a tear from her cheek. Gentle, adoring, and quietly commanding in a way that was so uniquely him. He wasn't just infatuated with her - He was invested. 

"I won't." She whispered.

Because, what else could she say?

Terzo hummed in acceptance, that teasing smile still playing on his lips. 

"Can I see you again tonight?" He asked with all the hope in the world, "I must admit, my lamb, you've left me quite restless without your company." 

(Y/n) felt her breath catch. She'd never been asked that. She'd never had someone restless over her. 

Her stomach flipped in a great feeling of anticipation and what she could only describe as hunger. "Yes. Yes, of course." 

Terzo exhaled as if he had been holding his breath waiting for her answer - just as nervous as she was. 

"Enjoy the evening with your new Sorelle, si? Come to my room after dinner, we can have a drink on the balcony?"

(Y/n) nodded enthusiastically, "Yes. I'd like that." 

His hands found hers, cradling them warmly between their bodies. "Non vedo l'ora... Arrivederci, (y/n)." 

He kissed her knuckles again, this time in parting rather than hello. 

"Ciao, Papa." She said quietly, watching him return to the group of Brothers who had been gawking at their entire interaction. 

Slowly, she turned around. A smile growing on her face that she couldn't hide.

It was a feeling of giddiness she'd only ever heard about, now being experienced in full effect. It was the way friends back home described having a crush, the exciting way it felt when Johnny Picanero asked her to a school dance before her parents said no and Sister Mary Angela said "save room for God and the bible".

But now, no one was here to tell her no. No one was there to micromanage - to make sure she was praying, studying her psalms, doing anything but think about boys and their unholy ways of corrupting girls. 

She turned back around, unsure of why she had turned in the first place.

Scanning her surroundings, she gave a nod and a polite smile to the Brothers and Sisters who stood by watching before she made her way to the library - that little smile still lingering as she walked with light in her steps. 

The tall doors to the library were open this afternoon, it's quietness heavy but welcoming in a most comforting way. 

(Y/n) sauntered in, her hands folded behind her back as she lazily strode over to the shelves her and Terzo had stood by the day prior. 

She passed by a few Brothers and Sisters minding their own business. Buried in a book or busy writing into notepads. 

The sun was not as far West at this time of the day, leaving the windows with the glow of indirect light - cool toned and holding promise for the hours still ahead. 

She ran her fingers along the spines of some books, not paying full attention to titles or authors as her mind wandered to the space above her to the right. That wooden staircase, the loft...

She took a book from the shelf - something to cling to, something just for the aesthetic for now, for the comfort. 

Taking a step forward, she kept the book close to her chest, sneaking a small glance around like she was afraid she was going to get in trouble for what she was doing. She stopped at the bottom of the spiral stairs and looked up. It seemed quiet and empty, not even a groan from the old wood settling in the growing warmth of the day. 

The stairs creaked. Not loud enough to disturb the sanctity of the library, but loud enough to remind (y/n) that this place was old, and worn in a well-loved fashion. 

She ascended slowly, clutching the unknown book to her chest like a shield, afraid to look down and see the (nonexistent) disapproving gazes of other siblings. 

The light in the loft was different from below - filtered by the old glass of smaller windows, a little more dusty, more golden and soft like the yellowed parchment of old stories forgotten. She reached the top of the stairs and rounded the corner where the loft opened up into a reading nook tucked between a few shelves. There was something of a low-to-the-ground coffee table with cushions around it, a couple potted plants on top and a cup of now cold tea. Pressed against the far right wall, underneath the odd design of two skylights, another small table held the contents of a notebook, a few discarded pages and another cup of tea more warm than the last but just as disregarded. 

Two armchairs sat on either side of the second table - turned slightly towards the small windows but still facing the top of the stairs, both wide enough to tuck your legs into and get comfortable.

That is where she saw him . 

Copia. 

Occupying one of the chairs, slouching slightly in the plush of the cushion, his legs stretched out and crossed like he was trying not to fill the little room with his presence. He held a book, but his eyes weren't on it. They were on her. Wide. Guilty. Like she'd caught him doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing. 

(Y/n) froze.

"Oh. Sorry," she began softly, her eyes blinking wide, "I didn't know anyone was up here..." 

Copia stared for a moment, frozen himself.

Then- 

"It's alright," he said quickly, voice a little scratchy like he hadn't spoken all day. "I- uh- I come up here sometimes. To think. Or. To not think..."

There was a pause. 

He closed his book, his thumb marking the page. "You can stay. If you want." 

(Y/n) stayed quiet, unable to take her gaze from him, unable to move like she was under the gaze of some kind of predator. 

He looked back at her, his brow furrowing slightly from her lack of response, turning his head like she was staring at something behind him. 

"Sorella?" He cleared his throat.

"Oh. Scusa. Really... I didn't mean to intrude-"

"No! No. Per favore, make yourself comfortable. You're not intruding." He assured her.

They stared at each other a moment longer before Copia motioned towards the seat next to him and towards the cushions at the other table. 

(Y/n) took to the cushions, taking herself comfortably against them - smoothing out her little tunic at the bottom as to be proper and to make sure she wasn't revealing herself. 

"Nice and quiet up here." She said gently, looking around the loft again to take it all in for a second time. 

"Hmm? Oh, si. It is, isn't it?" Copia replied, feeling the urge to roll his eyes at such a lack-luster response. 

"Yeah..." (y/n) reiterated. 

Today was different. Yesterday was for apologies. (Y/n) was nervous, but sharp - too quick and too kind to forgive Copia for being so cold when they'd first met. But today? Today she seemed more nervous, but her presence seemed to demand attention now when it hadn't before. 

She knew all too well how she was feeling. And Copia knew all too much about why she was feeling that way.

He was trying to be casual. Lucifer. He really was. And he hoped his clutching of his book or the awkward conversation wasn't a dead giveaway.

A dead giveaway that he couldn't stop imagining her naked body - thanks to Terzo - now that she was here. 

Her moans and sighs, how intimidated she must have been, how that hickey on her neck came to be...

Oh, sweet little virgin novitiate... Sunday will never be the same for you, will it?

He cleared his throat, digging two of the pads of his fingers into his temple - not believing he had actually thought that.

Pervert... He thought next. 

"Ah, what are you reading?" He then asked to (y/n) who was clearly not reading at all.

"Oh... Uh-" (y/n) picked up the book she had randomly grabbed from downstairs. 

It read:

• "Liturgies Of Lust: Vol. II"

Her brow furrowed, her cheeks heated slightly as she pressed the book further into her lap, not wanting Copia to see what she had. 

"Mmm," she hummed, "just something on... Something on astronomy?" 

"Why did you say that like it was a question?" Copia raised a brow.

"Huh? Oh. I-I didn't mean to. Its on astronomy. The history of astronomy." She flashed the book towards him so quickly it barely held the shape of a blurry rectangle. 

Copia grinned a little. The history of astronomy? Sure it was... 

"So. You're into the sciences?" He continued.

(Y/n) shrugged. "Yeah. Well, sure. I mean - what?" 

Copia sat a little straighter in his chair, not caring about the place in his book any longer he set in on the coffee table. 

"You were so keen to admire the architecture of the abbey yesterday, ti ricordi? You said you knew a great deal of petrology." He had an amused smile on his face, "You know... Minerals, and rocks... That's what you said. And now, astronomy? Mamma mia, you must be bored already with the gossip around here - being so bright and all." 

(Y/n) glared a little, scoffing in her defense. 

"You're picking on me."

"No, no." Copia waggled a finger at her, "I am teasing you, there is a difference, Sorella." 

She closed her eyes and nodded slowly, "Ah... So this must be your way of welcoming new members to the abbey? First you're rude and then you make fun of them for the things they enjoy reading and learning about..." She shrugged a little, a small look of hurt in her eyes. "I don't know you really. But. It does seem on brand for you."

Copia's expression fell. Suddenly he realized his teasing might have come off as too harsh. 

Great.

"Oh. Sorella. (Y/n)... I- I didn't mean-"

(Y/n) smiled, giving a small laugh to compliment the expression. "I'm teasing you too, you know?" 

He relaxed back into his chair and sighed, a smile on his face again. "You made that sound far too convincing."

"Grazie." She smirked, pushing out her chest in victory. 

There she was again, the same girl he'd spoken with yesterday - quick witted, sharp, kind... 

They fell silent again. (Y/n) dropped her gaze back to her lap, Copia tried to look anywhere but at her, but their smiles lingered. 

They sat a longer moment in the silence, not deafening but a little tense. 

Copia studied her a second, his gaze drifting to the book still clutched in her lap. 

"You haven't opened it." He broke the silence, "the book."

(Y/n) looked up and then back down, startled like she had forgotten it was even there. "Oh. No, I guess not."

"Not quite the astronomy classic you were looking for, hm?" His voice was gentle, carrying a smile, but he didn't press her any further. She looked mortified enough.

He hesitated for a few blinks of time, gently biting the his bottom lip over and over, looking around carefully like he wasn't sure why he was doing it:

"Wait here." 

(Y/n) perked up, sliding the book in her lap a little further under the table as Copia stood and moved past her towards the shelves in the back of the loft. It was the kind of shelf that didn't look like much, but then again what shelf did? You never knew what kinds of books were tucked away until you started pulling them out and scanned through synopsis'.

Something she clearly should have done with the book now sliding out of her lap.

Copia was crouching, leafing through a bottom shelf and grabbing a book before glancing up at the shelfs above and standing to grab another. 

Satisfied he nodded to himself and walked to where she stayed seated. 

Without a word he held out two thin books. One paper-back, with duct tape along the spine to keep the cover from coming off and pages from falling out. The other, hard-back with accidental ink markings on the fabric cover - like someone had kept it in a bag too long with uncapped pens. Both clearly well-loved. 

She took them with both hands and glanced at the covers. 

• "Anthem"
• "The Scarlet Letter"

Her lips parted, her brow furrowed. "I've never..."

"I know." He said gently, "I think maybe you'll enjoy them. Their message."

She gazed up at him, slightly taken aback by the softness in his voice. 

"They're... Fiction?" 

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Oh yes. Very dangerous. They'll make you think. They might corrupt you." 

(Y/n) held the books a little tighter. They felt heavy in a good way. A new way - special. 

"Thank you..." She said shyly, but she meant it with her whole heart. 

Copia shrugged like it was no big deal, returning to his chair. "They're important pieces I think everyone should read. Yours now too, if you want." 

And she did want. She wanted more than anything. 

Her fingers ran over the cover of The Scarlet Letter, tracing the slightly pen-stained red "A", then down the spine of Anthem, smoothing the edges of duct tape like it was something precious. 

"Were these yours?" She asked quietly. 

He glanced up to her and nodded, "Si. They were. Still are. B-but, they belong to you too now." 

A sudden wave of nerves washed over him and he felt himself sinking. 

Why? Christo al Inferno, Copia... E una ragazza! Stupido... 

(Y/n) swallowed her own sudden nerves through the knot in her throat. No one had ever said anything like that to her before - shared something so specific and meaningful. 

"I'll take good care of them." She gave him an earnest nod. 

Copia smiled but didn't say anything. He just watched her for another long moment as she went back to admiring the books, watching like he wanted to remember the way she looked right now: the softest light on her face, the way she held those books like they were the beginning of new life and new way. 

They were, to her. Even if he didn't know it. 

Eventually, (y/n) began to gather her books to her chest - including her "astronomy" book. She smoothed down her tunic again and stood from the table and cushions.

"I should get going," she said, not quite looking at him. 

Copia stood too, nodding like he understood. "Oh, of course."

"Thank you for letting me stay up here. A-and for the books!" (y/n) tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

"Si! Certo, of course. You are more than welcome to come up here any time." He said. "The books, I hope you enjoy them! Start with Anthem, yes? A little more empowering - that one. The Scarlet Letter is great, just heavier." 

(Y/n) nodded and smiled. "Thanks for the advice. Addio, Cardinale." 

And again, there she was - giving him that little wave, that gentle expression, that free kindness that cost her absolutely nothing to give away.

And she gave it to him.

Copia stood for a moment, completely still after she had left the loft. He blinked at the place she had been, and the soft hush of the room returned like a curtain closing out the visuals of a play. 

He exhaled slowly, deeply. Sitting again in his chair. 

He ran his fingers through his hair and then down his face, muttering to himself under his breath. 

"Una ragazza... Solo una ragazza." 

He sighed. His fingers tapping nervously on his thigh.

"Una bellissima ragazza con un bellissimo cuore... E i miei libri." 

His face was in his hands now. 

(Y/n) on the other hand, almost down the spiral stairs, clung to the books for dear life. Her cheeks were still warm, hear heart loud and thumping in time with each step she took.

She was thinking about his voice when he had handed her the books. About how gentle he was. About the way he had said they were his, and now hers too. 

Her foot missed the last step.

Not all of it - just the edge. But enough. 

She gasped quietly, jolting forward, and tossing the books ahead as to prepare to break her fall. 

Her ankles crossed and she felt the ghost of her hand come over her with the sign of the cross as she fell to her forearms with an oof!

A couple Siblings nearby stood from their chairs while others just stared in silence.

(Y/n) waved them off, "Sto bene!" she said too chipper, and they backed off as she scrambled to her knees to reach for the books. 

"Ow!" She cringed quietly to herself, gathering the books back in her arms, kneeling there for a moment in shock.

"Sorella, stai bene?" 

Copia was leaned over the railing with a look of concern. 

OF COURSE HE WAS. 

(Y/n) felt as though she were about to die, or more so wanted to. She blushed deeply and immediately at his presence and question. Why was it always worse when someone asked if you were okay!? 

"Oh, si, sto bene! Everything is okay!" She turned to look up at him, feeling the eyes of the others on her back. 

This is more punishment. She began convincing herself. 

"Are you sure? You're not hurt or anything?" He called out again.

Dio, per favore! 

"Y-yes I'm good, grazie!" 

She stood back up, smoothed her tunic again and waved to him. 

"See? All good!" 

"You're bleeding." He said. 

And she hadn't felt it until he said something. Her knee and elbow were scraped and carpet-burned from the fall and consequent slide, and it was beginning to sting - the embarrassment more than the scrapes. 

"Oh. N-no, its okay! Really! I'll be fine." She tried to laugh it off, hurrying to put away the Liturgies of Lust on that back shelf before making it straight for the doors.

"Ci vediamo in giro! Ciao!" She called out like a liar. half limping her way out of the library. She did not want to be seen in grio ever again. She wanted to be locked in her room forever or possibly buried alive. 

Copia stood frozen at the railing, still looking at the spot where she'd disappeared. And. Had fallen. 

He didn't move. Then he did. 

"Maledizione-" 

He nearly tripped down the stairs himself, taking two at a time to ensure he would catch up with her. 

Out of the library, he caught glimpse of her quickly taking the stairs to her room. 

"Sorella!" 

(Y/n) froze.

Dio, perche!? She wanted to scream. 

She turned, and there he was - just a few paces behind now, slightly out of breath, eyes filled with concern, and his brow knit together. 

"Sorellina, per l'amor di Dio, let me at least make sure you're not concussed!" He laughed gently. "I didn't mean to cause a scene in front of everyone in the library, mi dispiace... But, please. Let me help." 

(Y/n) tried to laugh herself, but now she felt vulnerable. "It's really okay. I've had worse..." 

She lifted her elbow and looked, showing it to him up close. 

He took it gently between his fingers. It really wasn't too bad, but it looked like it stung, and the same went for her knee.

And- Christ. Why was she so soft?

He let go of her just as gently as he'd held her. "Scusa." He smiled weakly.

"Do you want an ice pack? Something? A bandage? I need to do something, I feel like this is somehow my fault." 

(Y/n) looked at him with wide eyes, "huh? No! No. It wasn't your fault at all. I'm just clumsy." 

Copia shifted nervously from foot to foot as they stood tucked against the very side of the stairs. His hands rested at his side, then behind his back, then in front of him as if he had no idea what to do with himself. "Still, I don't want to see you hurt." 

She blinked at him, eyes still wide. Caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. 

He cleared his throat quickly, stepping back slightly like a flustered mess. "I- I just mean, anyone! I don't want to see anyone hurt. Yes..." 

She gave him a look. A half smile. 

You're terrible at this, she thought fondly. 

Sono pessimo in questo, he thought himself, watching her smile and feeling his knees go a little weak. 

(Y/n) tucked the books a little more securely into her arm. Her elbow throbbed now that the adrenaline had worn off, but worse was the quiet warmth she felt in her chest. 

That was new. 

That was dangerous. 

Copia glanced around. The hallway was quiet, just the two of them for now. 

"Can I... Walk you back to your room?" he asked like it was a terrible idea and he already regretted it. 

(Y/n) hesitated just a second.

But she nodded anyway. "Okay." 

It wouldn't be a far walk, but it was the least she could let him do if he so badly wanted to do something for her. 

They walked in silence. 

Not awkward, no. Not quite. 

But something sat between them. Something unspoken, something just starting to form. She wasn't so sure if it was gratitude or attraction or the beginnings of some strange kind of trust. 

When they reached her door, she turned to face him, resting her back against the wood, the books now hugged to her chest like a shield. 

"I really am okay," she said softly. 

Copia nodded. "I believe you." 

Quiet fell between them again. Just briefly. 

He motioned towards the books she held and rolled his eyes a little like he couldn't believe he was about to do what he was about to do:

"Uh," he cleared his throat a little, "and yet there is no shame in us and no regret. We say to ourselves that we are a wretch and a traitor. But we feel no burden upon our spirit and no fear in our heart. And it seems to us that our spirit is clear as a lake troubled by no eyes save those of the sun. And in our heart - strange are the ways of evil - in our heart there is the first peace we have known in twenty years." 

(Y/n) shook her head slightly, but smiled, almost on the verge of a laugh. "What?" 

Copia shrugged, running a hand down his face and feeling a little embarrassed. "Anthem. The end of chapter one." 

He pointed back at the book. 

"I really don't know much of your past, I can only assume. I just- I hope you're finally beginning to listen to your heart here. That you're finding comfort in yourself. I know it can be a difficult journey." 

Her expression fell from her unserious grin to something more serious - something that gave away the fact she was feeling seen, like her soul was laid naked before him. 

"Thank you." She whispered. 

"Come find me when you've finished it, si? I'd love to hear all about it." 

(Y/n) just nodded, a little eager, a little nervous. She knew her voice would shake if she said anything further and so she stayed quiet.

On the verge of that feeling of please don't be kind to me, if you're kind to me I will cry. 

"Ciao, Sorella." He said gently.

"Ciao..." She whispered back, just before slipping into her room and pressing the door closed behind her. 

She stared ahead into her plain little room, leaning still against the door - her palm now sweaty from where she kept it pressed against the books. 

What was that?

The Cardinal-

The books-

That quote- 

Strange are the ways of evil - in our heart there is the first peace we have known in twenty years...

She squeezed her eyes shut. 

She felt... Shaken. But underneath that, something quieter. That something warmer. 

Stepping forward on legs that suddenly felt unsteady, she moved to her little table and dropped the books down with a thud she hadn't meant. She stared at them. Then stared back at the door. 

And yet, she stayed still again. 

On the other side of the door, Copia hadn't moved either. 

He was still standing there like he had more to say. 

"What the fuck was that?" He whispered to himself, turning on his heel to flee the vicinity like a nervous little altar boy. 

His thoughts raced. 

Had he been too forward? Too formal? Not formal enough!? Why had he quoted Anthem, of all things? 

Why had she looked at him like what he said mattered? 

Why can't I stop thinking about her breasts!?

He let out a long, pathetic whine through his teeth and smacked his forehead gently against one of the half stone pillars at the top of the stairs.

"Get a grip," he hissed under his breath. "You are a man of the cloth. You are a spiritual guide. You are... Oh, Lucifero aiutami, you are a wreck." 

No. No. It was fine. 

She was sweet. She was young. She was attractive. There was nothing wrong with a little "crush", per se. This didn't involve feelings. He hadn't done anything wrong. In fact, he was doing what a Cardinal was supposed to do - be a spiritual guide, be there for his Papa's flock. It wasn't Terzo's sole responsibility to be there spiritually for every member of the church. That's why he was here. That's why Primo and Secondo were still looked to for the same kind of guidance. 

No. 

He was doing nothing wrong. 

He just knew far too much about her naked form and her "almost orgasm". 

"Vaffanculo, Terzo." Copia gritted, as he shook off his hallway meltdown and made his way back to the library. 

(Y/n) had finally peeled her eyes away from the books she left sitting on her little table and let herself relax in the soft quiet of her own room. 

The window had been left open just slightly from the night before - birdsong and the rustling of trees were carried in by the light breeze that left her space bright and fresh. 

She folded her arms, then held them to her side, grabbing the hem of her tunic like suddenly she couldn't get comfortable in the room. 

Her eye caught something on the bed. 

She blinked. 

It hadn't been there this morning. 

A small pouch - emerald green silk, folded neatly, tied with a black satin ribbon. It sat atop the blankets like a little secret. 

Her brows pulled together, and she moved slowly as though she were approaching an unknown animal. Like someone was watching her and waiting to give their disappointing opinion. 

She picked it up. Light, soft, a little paper tag tied to the ribbon. 

"For when you're ready to meet yourself in full. There is no shame in discovery, il mio agnella. Only divinity." - Papa. 

Terzo's words made her feel giddy but a little nervous as to what was wrapped in silk.

Fingers shaking slightly, she pulled the black ribbon loose and let the silk wrap fall away. 

Small. No bigger than a few inches. Completely unassuming. A little rounded stick? Silky soft, calm lilac color, a little power button at the base. 

She pressed it on and it vibrated. 

She gasped more loudly than she cared to admit and turned it off immediately, throwing it to the other end of the bed like it hurt her. She stared ahead, afraid to look back over at the small vibrator even though she kind of wanted to again. 

Carefully. Hesitantly. 

She picked it up again.

It didn't buzz this time. She didn't turn it on, but her thumb hovered over the button. 

What was so wrong? Why should she be so scared?

It was silly, really. A priest gave her a vibrator. A satanic pope gifted this to her. She scoffed out a little laugh and turned it on again, allowing herself to just feel it in her hands. It had a few different settings - a basic low, medium, high. Perfect for a beginner. She turned it back off and unintentionally let out a little "mmph" as her legs pressed together. 

Her heart fluttered in her chest as she stared back down at the device now still and quiet again in her palm. She was warm all over. Not just from embarrassment or nerves, but from curiosity. From the peculiar ache that had been stirring more often as of late - low in her belly, between her thighs, in the way she thought about Terzo holding her and touching her naked body, or the way the Cardinal had just shared a part of himself with her like he could see right through her. 

She placed the vibrator on her pillow, her clammy hands now flexing in her lap. 

Sure. It was silly. It was only a little thing of silicone. 

But. It was wrong. Self-indulgence was vain, masturbation was wrong. 

She whimpered a little, her hands now finding her face, fingernails pressing into the skin of her cheeks that were flushed from the idea of touching herself and from the shame of it all. 

"Whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body." (y/n) whispered to herself. 

Clawing its way through her chest and catching in her throat were the tears of fear and guilt - of damnation and whoredom that stole the feelings of warmth that had been building there. 

"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit?" Her voice cracked and the tears threatened to spill. 

Her breath hitched and her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven gasps. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, as if she could will away the thoughts and images she had deemed impure and wrong. 

Temple. Sinner. Shame. 

It was a spiral she'd been trapped in one too many times, and the way out felt completely closed off now that she had done the things she had vowed never to do. She was no longer a virgin - her purity taken out of wedlock. She had thought of men in a most unholy way, she had attempted to touch herself, she had had sex for pleasure. 

She had let the Devil into her heart. 

Her stomach dropped at that last thought. Her tears stopped but her bottom lip still trembled as her hands fell from her face. 

I have let him into my heart, and here he leaves no room for God. 

Her hand clutched the rosary she still wore. 

He is not evil, she thought. Thinking about the chapel, about the statue in the garden - how the stone had held her hands in her grievance of God, how it had held her when Terzo touched her so reverently.  

He admires my self-indulgence and thanks me for it. 

It felt like heresy - like a treason of the soul to think such a thing. But it was true, was it not?

Why should I bow before God if He should punish me for loving myself? Lucifer smiles upon me with open arms, he too knows the pain I know - that our Father, a jealous God, is disgusted in our ways of the self.  

Her fingers danced slowly towards her pillow, the other hand still grabbing at her rosary. 

One day. Perhaps. I will thank the Holy Trinity for leading me into the arms of my new savior. The Light Bearer has shown me just - the light. 

(Y/n) took in the deepest breath imaginable and exhaled with force. Her eyes stung, her hands shaky, her soul torn between the veil of the old and the new. 

The days of last had been emotionally tumultuous. She had been suffering long in the spirit, and being gifted the priceless gift of freewill now she had a choice. She could choose to remain at battle with mind and heart, and she knew in some sense there would be a battle for a long while. But, she could also choose to give in freely to the heart alone and live as her Papa had promised her - deliciously. 

Her fingers found the vibrator again. It was wrong. 

But that's what made it so right. 

In all of her emotional whiplash, she ached again. Heat in her belly pooled, and if the heat be the flames of hell, so be it. 

"Forgive me, Father." She whispered, "I- I don't..." 

She couldn't find the right words to say as she laid back against her bed, one hand holding the vibrator and the other releasing the rosary. She repositioned herself against her pillows and pulled her knees up, her tunic riding up like the devil himself were there pulling it up for her - begging her to touch herself. 

Maybe she didn't need to find any words. Maybe there was nothing she needed to confess about. 

Her bottom lip was between her teeth now and she looked around the room like someone was in there to spy. No one was, of course. 

Inhaling and exhaling was a shaky business - almost as bad as her nervous hands - but it reminder her she was alive. She had not yet been smote by the hand of God for thinking in such unholy ways, though she may be scared of the change ahead of her, the change in self and the change in heart, she had not been struck down. And as far as she knew, she had not been damned. 

The vibrator sat pressed between her hands now as she began to roll the soft silicone against her excited skin. 

Her legs pressed together like they fist had when holding the toy - before her feelings of deep religious guilt had crept in - and her hips rocked forward to meet that friction. 

She rocked her hips again and whimpered quietly, her clasped hands pressing against her mound almost as if she were trying to push herself off of herself. But a little smile began to grow on her lips as her tightly pressed thighs sent a feeling she could only describe as electricity through her body. 

(Y/n) shivered slightly, her teeth chattering gently from the feelings of confused excitement as she finally opened her hands and looked at the toy again. 

She turned it on, it hummed softly in her palm. 

This isn't so scary. It's... Soft. She thought to herself, keeping the vibrator cradled there in her hands before allowing herself to move it further. 

She placed it on her lower stomach, just feeling the soft vibration without fear, without judgement. 

The feeling seeped deep into her skin, causing her warmth all over. From the rosiness of her cheeks to the heat between her legs. 

She kept it there against her tummy for what felt like eternity, nervous to move any further. But she did eventually. 

Her legs parted slightly and she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, relaxing further into the bed as she used the vibrator against her inner thigh. 

Little cotton panties still on, she moved the toy over to her other thigh, barely grazing her clit as she lightly dragged it across. 

Her stomach flipped at the brief sensation - her free hand moving to her mouth to bite down softly on a knuckle like she was ashamed she enjoyed the feeling. 

She did it again. This time for longer, trying to find exactly where the source of pleasure - oh so sinful pleasure - was coming from. 

"O-ooh..." She moaned quietly, finding her clit again. 

The sensation was a lot. Almost too much for such a sensitive beginner, but her hips met the toy and her hand in agreeance with the feeling. 

She rolled her hips against it, tentatively - feeling the pulse of heat shoot through her as she pressed more firmly against the dampening cotton of her underwear. It was sharp and exciting. Bright and challenging. A jolt of something she found too big to name. 

Her thighs tensed and her toes curled, her stomach flexing with sensation to the right spot. 

A tiny moan slipped past her lips, half surprise and half need as she kept it against herself. 

It was unlike any of the touching she had felt the night previous. It was direct, focused, almost too much but not enough at the same time. 

She pulled the toy away and turned it off, her breath shuddering from the loss and sudden warmth that seemed to flood her entire nervous system. 

Staring at the ceiling, lips parted, she lay there flushed and a little confused. She set the vibrator aside, her hand shaking slightly as she let her body settle. 

Then - slowly, bravely - she slid her hand down again. Just her fingers, one hand entirely fisting the hem of her tunic already while the other found her soaking panties. Gentle, warm, and human, this felt right. This felt like how Terzo had touched her. 

The pads of her fingers rubbed against where she had used the toy. Just once, then again, and again. 

And oh-

This was better. 

She kept rubbing. Small circles, longer strokes that lead her to her wet center - each pass making her hips twitch ever so slightly. Warm skin, hot breath, and the steady, quiet pressure of a girl just learning about herself and her likes. 

The tension coiled in her belly again, this time smoother. She didn't feel afraid or overwhelmed as she had before. Everything felt warmer, less like a shock and much more so like she were melting. 

She bit her lip as her eyes fluttered shut and she relaxed at the fact that she was allowing herself to do this. 

On her terms.

In her time.

With her hands. 

She thought of nothing. Not of sin, not of guilt, not of her purity, not of her soul. 

Only was there the sweet pressure building in her. Only her thighs clenching and the heat spreading down her legs. 

Only her fingers, steady now, knowing now - and still learning - exactly what she needed and exactly how to give it to herself. 

She whimpered once, quiet and tight in her throat as her back arched slightly from the bed. 

"Y-yes." She whispered. Not to anyone, just herself. 

Her hips rocked into her palm as her fingers slipped lower, feeling her wet heat again. She could feel it now - something close, something trembling at the edge of her reach, that same something she'd denied herself yesterday. 

She felt flushed, and careless. Careless in the sense that nothing else mattered other than her own release.

She moaned quietly. "O-oh," her voice hoarse from panting. "Oh. Yes, yes."

She didn't really know why she was speaking, only that on top of the pleasure from touching herself it too felt good - a release of tension before the actual release. 

The coiled tension continued to compress, coiling tighter and tighter as she rubbed herself with deeper pressure - unbothered by the mess she was making of herself. Panties soaked and finger slick. 

(Y/n) squirmed a little in her bed, her panting growing more rapid, her heartbeat in her ears, her hand beginning to ache from its movement. 

Her hand trembled as she kept going, desperate and determined, her thighs beginning to shake as the pressure reached its unbearable peak. 

This was all instinct, rhythm and need now. 

Her lips parted, and her voice cracked-

"Ah-oh-oh fuck- I'm sorry-I'm sorry-" 

She moaned a little louder as the coil snapped all at once. And all she could think to do was to cuss and apologize as a rush of lightning from her center, to her fingers, her toes, and scalp flooded her body. Her hips jerked forward and she arched into her hand again, feeling herself clench around nothing as she came. 

Collapsing, she gasped a little at the realization of what had just happened. Her hand fell limp between her thighs and her body sank heavily into the mattress as her core continued to pulse faintly with the aftershock of orgasm. 

Her breath caught and her eyes fluttered open. 

"Oh..." She exhaled, half laughing and half stunned. 

She looked to the ceiling, hair messy and fanned out against her pillow like a halo, her tunic bunched up around her hips, and her panties clinging to her skin wetly. 

"I did it." She whispered with a small smile, "I did it... I can't wait to do it again tomorrow?" 

She laughed at herself for saying it, and bit her lip, letting her eyes slip shut again. 

Just for a moment, she'd rest. She'd clean up soon. 

Maybe.

Eventually.

On her terms. In her own time. With her own hands. She could choose herself without the fear of damnation.