Chapter Text
"Giulia, darling, stop squirming! I can’t get this last clasp fastened!" Margherita grumbled, wrestling with the stubborn hook of the corset. "And honestly, is this really necessary? Papa will have far less work to do later in the bedroom anyway, and at least my arms won’t fall off," she added with a mischievous grin.
"Stop talking so much," I said, turning to plant a quick kiss on her forehead. "It's almost done."
Today was the day. I felt no fear, no anxiety—only quiet certainty. Today I would take my vows before the Dark Lord and forever seal my love with Papa. My Papa. My Copia.
He was the childhood friend who had taken care of me and my brother Cecilio when our gravely ill mother could no longer look after us and entrusted us to the clergy. My Cardinal, who once asked me out on a date with fear shining in his eyes, a single white dahlia trembling in his hand. And above all, my love—the man who had always been there for me, the one who made me feel safe and like I truly belonged.
"I finally understand how much Flo struggled with my corset before my own wedding," Margherita whispered. "Nihil was furious because I made the entire ritual start late." She snorted. "We barely made it out of the chapel before we ran straight to our room. The corset ended up on the floor by the bed, and that was the end of all her hard work."
"Angry Nihil? Now that’s something I’ve never seen," I said. "Did he try to call off the wedding?"
"Are you kidding? He wanted to disinherit Secondo for choosing me over all the other Sisters in the clergy," she declared. "He was always an ass, if you ask me. Though he treats you differently."
"At least you didn’t have to deal with Sister Imperator’s moods," I sighed.
"Okay, fair point. Between the two, I’d still take Nihil the jerk." She gave the corset one final tug. "Turn around, gattina."
Soft autumn sunlight streamed through the window, gently warming my face. My long, dark brown hair was neatly pinned up in an elegant bun. I rarely wore it loose—stray strands always annoyed me by falling into my eyes or brushing against my lips. Margherita carefully helped me into the traditional wedding garments, their rich colors perfectly matching those of the current Papa. I looked natural. Just the way he loved me most.
“Ragazze! What’s taking you so long? We don’t have much time left!” Alessandra called from the doorway. “And what about your makeup? You can’t have just lip gloss on your wedding day,” she muttered, setting a vase with my bridal bouquet of dahlias on the table. “You’re marrying Papa, for hell’s sake. The crème de la crème of Rome will be here. You need to look like a queen!”
“Oh please, you know I hardly ever wear makeup,” I replied. “Besides, Papa prefers me without it. And I couldn’t care less about that fancy crowd. Today, only Copia matters to me.”
Margherita helped me slip on the final layer of my outfit. “Ed ecco fatto, fiorina! Our fourth Papa is going to drop dead from awe when he sees you, mia regina.”
Alessandra looked at me warmly and took both my hands in hers. “Just look at you… You’re stunning, darling. Soon you’ll officially be one of us,” she said, her voice full of joy. “Copia will be completely speechless.”
“Oh, he won’t stay quiet for long once we’re in the bedroom,” I snorted, and the girls burst into laughter with me.
“That’s definitely one thing you don’t need to worry about,” Alessandra teased with a wink.
Margherita stood beside us and sighed theatrically. “One of us, huh, Ale? Sounds awful. Like we’re part of some cult.”
“Maybe not a cult,” Alessandra grinned, “but we could start a club.”
“Got a name for it already?” Margherita asked.
“The White Eye Appreciation Club,” she replied, making us all laugh again.
“Come here,” I said, pulling them both into my arms. Our eyes met in the mirror. “Grazie a voi per tutto. Vi amo,” I whispered.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
“Oh, finally! Florentia, Iris—where have you two been” Alessandra called as she opened the door.
“Give me a break. I’m sweating like crazy,” Florentia panted. “I couldn’t wake Primo from his nap. I had to rush to help him into his full regalia and—” She froze the moment her eyes landed on me. “Giulia, mia piccola… Maledetto diavolo all’inferno! You look—”
“Like a princess straight out of the Dark Kingdom! You temptress,” Iris finished, throwing her arms around me. “Uncle Copia is one very lucky man,”she added with a playful wink.
“Oh, Papa’s a very lucky man indeed. Everything fits perfectly,” Margherita called out, giving me a cheeky pat on the backside. “Good thing I went with silk instead of cotton. The needle goes through much easier. I’m quite proud of this design.” She smiled, clearly pleased with herself.
“It’s perfect. So, where’s your nomination for Rome’s most talented designer?” I asked, unable to tear my eyes away from my reflection.
“Exactly—where is it?” Margherita shrugged with a laugh.
“All right, ladies, time to get moving,” Alessandra chuckled. “We’ll have the whole night for girl talk. Giulia, don’t forget your bouquet.”
“Assuming none of the Emerituses ends up in the fountain again,” Florentia added dryly.
“Don’t even remind me,” Alessandra groaned, lightly smacking her on the arm.
“Actually, thanks for reminding me, Flo. I need to send a ghoul to the kitchen to hide all the glass bottles that aren’t filled with wine!” Margherita giggled.
Still laughing, we left my old childhood room as the deep bells began to ring, making our way toward the chapel.
*
A chill hung in the dim, half-light of the old Gothic chapel. Tall, pointed stained-glass windows cast narrow beams of colored light across the ancient stone walls, illuminating faded frescoes of sin and damnation. At the center stood a heavy stone altar crowned with flickering candles, and just behind it loomed a monumental statue of Belial, carved from dark marble. The demon watched over the sanctuary in solemn silence, as if standing eternal vigil.
The chapel was filled to capacity. Clergy, bishops, cardinals, Siblings of Sin, and distinguished guests occupied every pew. In the front rows sat the Emeritus family.
In the very first pew were the parents of my soon-to-be husband—Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator. To her right sat their second son — Copia’s twin brother, Bishop Perpetua, who had been my friend since I was a little girl. Beside him was Florentia, the beloved wife of Papa Primo, her hand resting gently on the shoulder of their daughter Iris—my dearest friend and closest in age.
In the second pew sat the ever-lively family of Papa Terzo. Beside him was Alessandra, radiant and smiling as always, with their three sons—Edgar, Roberto, and the youngest, Victor, who looked slightly bored. Right next to them were Papa Secondo and his wife Margherita, both elegant and composed.
As always during Mass, my older brother Cecilio and his wife Veronica sat in the organ loft opposite the altar — a place that had belonged to him for years as the church’s organist. For as long as I could remember, he had played every service dedicated to our Dark Lord, letting the powerful echoes of faith and ritual pour from beneath his fingers.
I stood motionless at the entrance, waiting for the first notes of the organ—the signal to begin my walk down the aisle. In the heavy silence and tension of that moment, I lifted my gaze… and there he was.
Copia stood at the altar, calm and almost perfectly still. Our eyes met for the briefest second, and suddenly nothing else in the world existed.
When the first deep, resonant note of the organ finally rolled through the chapel, time itself seemed to tremble. I lifted the hem of my gown slightly, drew in a quiet breath, and began walking toward the altar. Dozens of eyes followed my every step, but I saw only him.
Copia stood tall in his full papal regalia and striking face paint, his gaze locked solely on me. With every step I took, his smile grew wider and warmer. In his eyes I saw everything—calm, tenderness, and a silent, heartfelt at last.
When I finally reached his side, we didn’t speak. No words were needed. Our eyes said everything.
A profound silence settled over the chapel. Papa Primo raised his hands, his voice deep and commanding as he addressed the congregation.
“We are gathered here today, in the light of grace and under the watch of our Dark Lord, to unite two hearts as one. Marriage is not only a spiritual covenant, but above all, a union of bodies—an unholy sacrament that binds you to love, loyalty and the shared descent into the abyss of darkness. May this day mark the beginning of a new path, guided by faith, love, and above all, by earthly pleasures and lust.”
His powerful voice echoed through the vaulted space like incense smoke, wrapping around us both. It felt less like the start of a ceremony and more like crossing an irreversible threshold into something sacred.
The chapel filled with soft whispered prayers and the gentle glow of candlelight. The air was thick with the mingled scent of incense and fresh flowers. I stood lost in thought, drifting through memories, until Copia gently took my hand, bringing me back to the present—to the moment that would bind us together forever.
Primo raised his hand, his voice resonating deep and powerful. “The time has come for you to speak your vows before the Dark Lord. The words that will bind your souls for eternity.”
“I, Giulia Marchetti, in the presence of Darkness and the Eternal Flame, take you, Papa Copia Emeritus IV, as my husband…” I spoke each word slowly and clearly as I slid the ring onto his finger. “…to join our souls in a covenant of strength, loyalty, and unyielding will, in the glow of infernal fire, until the end of our days.” I smiled softly.
“I, Papa Copia Emeritus IV, in the presence of Darkness and the Eternal Flame, take you, Giulia Marchetti, as my wife…” His mismatched eyes sparkled as he slipped the ring onto my finger. “…to join our souls in a covenant of strength, loyalty, and unyielding will, in the glow of infernal fire, until the end of our days. I love you more than life itself, amore.”
Primo raised his arms, his tone solemn and commanding. “By the power of Darkness, in the name of our Dark Lord, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May your souls burn as one flame, in Hell and on Ea—”
“Oh, just kiss the bride before she changes her mind!” Terzo interrupted loudly, leaping up from his pew with a grin.
Laughter rippled through the chapel. Even Primo couldn’t hold back a smirk.
Copia didn’t hesitate. He pulled me close, one hand gently cupping my face as his mismatched eyes looked straight into mine. Then he kissed me—slow, tender, and full of quiet emotion. In that kiss there was everything we had shared for years—safety, longing, devotion, and the deep certainty that we finally belonged to each other completely.
When we parted, my forehead rested against his for a brief moment. The rest of the world faded away.
There was only us.
*
Wine had long since stopped being symbolic. Now it was simply everywhere. The tables groaned under mountains of food, loud laughter bounced off the stone walls, and drunken toasts clashed with shouted conversations. Pure, beautiful chaos.
Every few minutes another person came up to us with congratulations, hugs, and well-wishes. I smiled politely, but my mind was already drifting. I was grateful and happy, yet I desperately longed for even five minutes of peace and quiet.
Finally, when the last guest had offered their blessings and no one was grabbing my shoulder, Copia took my arm and gently led me toward the table where my new family sat. There was plenty of wine, plenty of laughter, too little space, and far too many stories.
“Here come the newlyweds!” Alessandra called out, already nicely flushed from the wine. “Come on! You made it just in time before Terzo decides to strip again!”
“It was one button,” Terzo protested, even though his shirt was already open almost to his navel. “It’s just hot in here… especially with so many beautiful sorelle around.”
“You’re always hot,” Perpetua chuckled without looking up from his glass. “And every wedding ends the same—with you in the courtyard fountain.”
The whole table burst out laughing.
“Speaking of which,” Secondo said, looking at Terzo with amusement, “remember our wedding, Marg?”
“Oh no, please don’t…” Margherita groaned, hiding her face behind her hand.
“It was glorious,” Secondo continued proudly. “Three days straight of partying, everyone drunk before noon, and Terzo—”
“No, Secondo…” Terzo warned in a serious tone. “Don’t you dare, stronzo.”
“I don’t remember that—remind me,” Copia said, genuinely curious.
“You don’t remember because you passed out under the table, cuddling a bottle of Chianti like it was your firstborn, sciocchino,” Terzo shot back.
“Oh really? That’s new to me,” I laughed, watching Copia’s cheeks turn pink.
Terzo sighed dramatically. “Fine. I drank an entire bottle of olive oil that night. I thought it was wine.” He paused, then lifted his hands slightly in mock surrender. “Please—go on, laugh all you want!”
The table exploded with laughter.
“It was in a dark bottle!” Terzo defended himself, turning red. “And it was sitting right next to the wine!”
“You kept saying it had a wonderful taste,” Alessandra added, wiping tears from her eyes, “and then you tried to baptize Iris’ cat with it.”
“You did what?” Iris asked, eyes wide with shock.
“It was a sacrament!” Terzo cried. “Your cat looked spiritually open!”
“A sacrament?” Primo laughed deeply. “Fratello, it took us a whole week to get the oil out of his fur!”
“Same with your hair!” Alessandra teased, ruffling Terzo’s head.
“And then you climbed into the fountain in your underwear,” Perpetua added, barely keeping a straight face, “saying you wanted to purify yourself before rebirth.”
“I remember that!” I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my wine. “Your singing woke up the entire abbey.”
“I tried to pull him out with Primo,” Perpetua muttered, “but somehow we both ended up in the fountain with him.”
“I just wanted my brothers to cleanse themselves with me!” Terzo declared proudly. “Oh, come on—I was young! And that, amici miei, is how the best memories are made.” He raised his glass high. “Now, a toast to my little brother and my wonderful and beautiful sorella!”
I glanced at Copia with a warm smile and said, “You know what? Maybe it’s a good thing our wedding is a little calmer… for now, at least.” I added, giving Terzo a playful wink.
“Calmer?” Terzo raised an eyebrow. “Cara mia, the night is still young.” He lifted his glass even higher. “To the newlyweds!”
“To the newlyweds!” everyone echoed, glasses clinking loudly amid another wave of laughter.
*
The time had flown by so quickly in such good company that it felt like the snap of a finger. When I finally glanced at the clock, it was already five in the morning. The ballroom was bathed in the soft, peculiar half-light of dawn. The candles had burned down, the tables looked like battlefields after a long war, and most of the guests had already disappeared to their bedrooms. A few had simply fallen asleep where they sat.
“At least there will be memories,” I murmured to myself with a tired smile.
Florentia and Iris were among the first to leave, both slightly unsteady, whispering and giggling to each other before vanishing toward their rooms. Alessandra followed a little later, joining her sons who were under the watchful eye of their caretaker. Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator, as usual, slipped away quietly—I didn’t even notice when they left.
Copia was dozing now, his head resting heavily on Perpetua’s shoulder, snoring softly. It looked like the entire night of celebration had finally caught up with him and gently lulled him to sleep. Primo, Secondo, and Margherita were also getting ready to leave.
They moved slowly, clearly feeling the weight of the long night. Primo complained that he would have to buy new shoes because the current ones were trying to cut off his circulation. Margherita laughed at him without mercy, while Secondo tried to keep what little dignity he had left, smoothing his rumpled robes. Their quiet laughter echoed off the walls for a moment, then gradually faded until an almost complete silence settled over the room.
As the men staggered toward the exit, Margherita turned back to the table. She stopped beside me, still holding a glass, a slightly wary look in her eyes.
“Giulia? Where’s Terzo?” she asked, glancing around.
“Didn’t he go with Ale earlier?” I asked, surprised.
Margherita raised an eyebrow. “That’s what I thought too, but about an hour ago I ran into her nanny, who was looking for him. Apparently Alessandra came back alone.”
A brief silence fell between us. We both instinctively looked toward the open doors leading to the courtyard. In the distance, we could hear a faint sound… a tambourine.
Margherita sighed deeply and drained the rest of her glass. “Alright. I’m going to find him before he declares himself the prophet of olive oil, standing naked in the fountain,” she muttered, already heading toward the door.
I was utterly exhausted and dreaming only of a soft bed. I turned, leaned down, and gently touched Copia’s shoulder. “Hey, caro… Time to go back to our room.”
He opened his eyes with effort, still sleepy but smiling. He stretched lazily, then pulled me closer in a half-embrace, as if he didn’t want to let the night end just yet. “Was that a dream… or did we really get married?” he mumbled.
“A bit of both…” I whispered, smiling softly.
Perpetua lifted his head from his folded hands and stretched with a groan. “Fun night, sorellina,” he said warmly. “Really fun.” He stood up, kissed me on the cheek, and headed toward the corridor.
Finally, it was just Copia and me. He held me for a moment longer, then we slowly made our way toward our suite. Behind us remained only half-empty glasses, scattered decorations, and memories that would probably sound even funnier once we were fully awake.