Chapter Text
Fall had always been Perpetua’s favorite season; it was calm and quiet, and he particularly liked the way the coast looked under the cloudy, grey skies. When he had worked in the Church, there were no major holidays around, so the church halls were quiet, and people were far and few between. The Ministry was the exact opposite, fall time meant the Siblings of Sin and the Clergymen were growing restless, excited at the prospect of participating in the Halloween season’s rituals and sacraments.
Once he had finally finished the tour and returned home (if he could call the Ministry home), Perpetua could hardly go five minutes without running into a Cardinal or Sibling ready to talk his ear off about some satanic ritual that was happening that night. He normally appreciated that people wanted to talk to him, but at just this moment, he was really starting to miss the quiet of his old life. Despite all the conversation, since his return, he had taken alone time to fully explore the Ministry’s winding halls and expansive grounds, wandering around in hopes of trying to find some nice, mediative spot to call his own. He had finally found one about a week ago, a small stone bench behind some rose bushes and the far walls that overlooked the sea.
Perpetua pushed back his desk chair and stood, carefully setting aside the journal he’d been keeping of rehearsal notes, costume fittings, and other satanic pope-ly duties, suddenly filled with the desire to stare out over the ocean and forget the last couple hectic months. He grabbed a long black coat he had tossed over the footboard of his bed a couple days ago and headed outside into the Ministry. Walking through the long halls lit by sconces and sunset light passing through the stained-glass windows, he passed by several groups of Siblings, to whom he politely waved and greeted before continuing on to the gardens.
As much as he missed the peace and quiet, he really did appreciate the friendliness of the Ministry’s members. When Perpetua had first arrived at the Ministry, completely broken and confused after discovering his entire life was a lie and also he had a living twin brother who also happened to despise his guts for no apparent reason and also he had to perform in front of millions, despite having no experience in singing, or performing, or being on stage, or doing anything like this, the Clergy and especially the Siblings, had taken a great deal of pity on him and had an enormous amount of patience while he adjusted to this new life. He owed them a lot and would be forever thankful for the help they had given him, but sometimes the need for space calls.
Trying to snap out of his own thoughts, Perpetua turned his head to the portrait busts that lined the hallway he was walking in. Most of them were notable cardinals, immortalized in stone for doing some good thing for the Ministry, almost all of them dated within the last 50 years. Funny that for such a prestigious and uptight organization, the Ministry really hadn’t been around for a long time, huh?
As he entered one of the aisles of the cathedral, the busts thinned out to just five: Perpetua’s father, his three uncles, and his brother, their marble eyes looking coldly out into the dimly lit nave. Perpetua’s brisk walking pace came to a halt, and he just stared at the statues. It made him uneasy looking at reminders of his family, all of whom except his brother had passed away before he ever even knew they existed. In the months he had to process his emotions, he still never really was able to put a name on what he felt when he thought about them, was it grief? Longing? Guilt? Did it matter? For all he knew, just as he didn’t know they existed, they probably didn’t know he existed either, so what did it matter what emotions he felt towards them? The only emotion he knew exactly what to call it was when he looked at Copia’s, oh apologies, Frater Imperator’s portrait, and that was pure and utter irritation.
From the second that he had arrived at the Ministry, only one thing was ever made clear to him: Perpetua worked for Frater Imperator, and Frater Imperator absolutely hated him and refused to even greet him. He was baffled, how on God’s (Satan’s?) green Earth could you possibly hate someone you haven’t seen in 50-something years so much that you refuse to talk to them? In some effort to clear his confusion, he had poked around and asked clergy members if he had unknowingly done something to offend Frater or something, and no one really had a clear answer for him, just warnings to not go and see him. He had even asked Mr. and Mrs. Psaltarian, who he had been told had known Frater for a long time, about it, and they both just brushed him off, saying not to worry about him. Reaching a dead end, and not willing to test out whether or not his brother was fratricidal or not, he stayed away, and his confusion morphed into irritation and annoyance. Now any time someone mentioned Frater, which was a lot since they work together, he felt a hot, bright flash of annoyance deep within his core. Hopefully, no one noticed, it probably wouldn’t reflect on him too well.
Shoving down any thoughts of his family, he continued on his walk, crossing the chapel and through some more hallways before pushing open the doors to the gardens. A gentle breeze passed over him as he stepped out into the covered walkway. It was a nice night out, the sun had just finished setting, painting the sky a wonderful shade of crimson and violet, and it was just the right temperature for the coat he was wearing. The trees had already turned shades of yellows, oranges, and reds and their leaves cascaded along with the wind before settling on the ground or on the artwork and benches that dotted the gardens. He paused, taking in the fall air and letting his emotions fall away like the leaves. In the gardens, a couple groups of siblings were strolling along the bushes, chatting and laughing, although Perpetua could not hear their words from his distance. Pleading to his gods above and below that none of them would notice him, he slipped into an empty pathway and through a small gap to that lonely little bench behind the far garden wall.
His bench was moss-covered and damaged on the left side with the broken-off pieces laying in the overgrown grass. It overlooked the ocean, and he could watch the waves crash into the cliffsides that hugged the bay. In the summer, he was sure that some of the plants that surrounded the bench could flower, and what a sight that would be! He gently sat down on the bench and leaned back on the wall, slowly exhaling and closing his eyes, straining to only hear the distant ocean and the rustling of leaves.
Ah, but if he was alone now… He reached up and slid off his mask. He opened his eyes and stared at the back of the mask in his hands. He’d been wearing a mask for most of his adult existence; it was much easier to hide his face rather than answer everyone’s questions about it. When he had become Papa, it had become part of his papal mask, and every good Papa needs an iconic look, right? He gently ran his thumb over the grooves of the mask's eye and nose gaps and closed his eyes again, lost in thought. He barely registered the sounds of someone walking along the wall behind him nor the sounds of someone slipping through the same gap in the wall he had, muttering half-sentences and complaints.
“What the fuck?!”
Perpetua half-opened his eyes to the interruption before his heart jumped and his entire body shot up like he’d been electrocuted. Standing a couple meters to his left, in Perpetua’s own fucking quiet place, was Frater fucking Imperator staring at him with wide eyes, unlit cigarette in his mouth, and lighter halfway up to his face.
“What the fuck?!”