Chapter Text
"Giulia, darling, stop squirming! I can’t get this corset fastened!" Margherita yelled, struggling helplessly with the last clasp. "And honestly, is this really necessary? Papa will have less work to do later in the bedroom and at least my arms won’t fall off," she added with a teasing smile.
"Stop talking so much," I said, turning to plant a quick kiss on her forehead. "See? Almost done."
Today was the day. I felt no fear, no anxiety. Today I was to take my vows before the Dark Lord and forever seal my love with Papa. My Papa, my Copia. The childhood friend who took care of me and my brother Cecilio when our gravely ill mother could no longer support us and entrusted us to the clergy. My Cardinal, who with fear in his eyes asked me out on a date, holding a white dahlia in his trembling hand. And above all, my love. The man who was always there for me, who made me feel safe and like I truly belonged.
"I finally understand how much Flo struggled with my corset before my wedding," she whispered. "Nihil was furious because I made the wedding ritual start late," she snorted. "We barely made it out of the chapel before running straight to our room. The corset ended up on the floor by the bed, and that was the end of her effort."
"An angry Nihil? That’s something I’ve never seen. Did he try to call off the wedding?" I asked.
"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. He treats you differently, though."
"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. Turn around, gattina."
The sunlight streamed softly through the window, brushing my face with autumn warmth. My long, dark brown hair was carefully pinned up in a bun. I rarely wore it loose; it annoyed me when strands fell into my eyes or covered my mouth. Margherita helped me gently with the corset and the other layers of traditional wedding garments, their colors perfectly matching those of the current Papa. I looked natural, just the way Papa liked to see me most.
“Ragazze! What’s taking you so long? We don’t have much time left!” Alessandra called from the doorway.
“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. Besides, Papa prefers me without it,” I said, sticking my tongue out at her playfully. “And I couldn’t care less about that fancy crowd. Today, Copia is all that matters to me.”
Margherita helped me put 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 my hands. “Just look at you! You’re stunning, darling. Soon you’ll officially be one of us,” she said with joy. “Copia will be speechless when he sees you.”
“Oh, he won’t be so quiet once we’re in the bedroom,” I snorted with laughter, and the girls burst out laughing with me.
“Oh, that’s one thing you definitely don’t need to worry about,” Alessandra teased.
Margherita stood beside us and sighed in mock seriousness. “One of us, huh, Ale? Sounds awful. Like we’re part of some cult.”
“Maybe not a cult,” Alessandra said, grinning, “but we could start a club.”
“Got a name for it already?” She asked.
“The White Eye Appreciation Club,” she replied, making us all laugh again.
“Come here,” I said, wrapping my arms around them both. Our eyes met in the mirror. “Grazie a voi per tutto. Vi amo, mie care amanti dell’Occhio Bianco!” I whispered just as a knock sounded at the door.
“Oh, it’s about time! Florentia, Iris, where have you two been?” Alessandra called out as she opened the door.
“Give me a rest. I’m sweating like crazy. I couldn’t wake Primo from his little nap. I had to rush to help him into his full regalia and—” Florentia started, then froze when her eyes met mine. “Giulia, piccola… Maledetto diavolo all’inferno! You look—” she fell silent, both stunned and awestruck.
“Like a princess straight out of the Dark Kingdom! Temptress, carina,” Iris exclaimed, throwing her arms around me. “Uncle Copia’s one lucky man,” she added with a wink.
“Oh, Papa’s a very lucky man indeed. Everything fits perfectly,” Margherita called out, giving me a playful pat on the backside. “Good thing I went with silk instead of cotton. The needle goes through much easier. I’m 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 the mirror.
“Exactly, where is it?” She said with a shrug.
“All right, ladies, time to get moving. We’ll have the whole night for girl talk,” Alessandra laughed. “Giulia, don’t forget your bouquet.”
“Assuming none of the Emerituses ends up in the fountain again,” Florentia added.
“Don’t even remind me,” Alessandra groaned, giving her a light smack 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 don’t have wine in them!” Margherita said, pretending to grab a phone and make a call.
Laughing, we left my old room, the one I’d lived in since childhood, as the bells began to ring, and started making our way toward the chapel.
*
A chill lingered in the half-light of the old Gothic chapel. A tall, pointed stained-glass windows cast narrow bands of colored light across the walls, which were covered with faded frescoes and paintings depicting scenes of sin and damnation. At the center stood a stone altar, candles flickering upon it, and just behind — a monumental statue of Belial, carved from dark marble, silently watching over the interior as if keeping vigil. The chapel was packed. The pews were filled with members of the clergy — bishops, cardinals, Siblings of Sin, and other distinguished guests. Closest to the altar, in the first rows, sat the Emeritus family.
In the front pew were the parents of my soon-to-be husband, Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator. To her right sat their second son, and Copia’s twin brother — Bishop Perpetua, also my friend from the days when I was still a little girl. Next to him was Florentia, beloved wife of Papa Primo, her hand gently resting on the shoulder of their daughter — Iris, my dearest friend and my peer in age.
In the second pew sat the ever-lively family of Papa Terzo — by his side, Alessandra, smiling and radiant as always, and beside her their three sons: Edgar, Roberto, and the youngest, slightly bored Vittorio. Just next to them sat Papa Secondo and his wife Margherita, both as elegant and composed as ever.
As with every Mass, my elder brother Cecilio and his wife Veronica sat on the balcony opposite the altar, a place that had long belonged to him as the organist. For years, he had taken part in every service in honor of our Dark Lord, letting the echo of faith and ritual flow proudly through the keys beneath his fingers.
I stood motionless in the doorway, waiting for the first sound of the organ — the signal for me to begin my walk toward the altar. In the stillness and tension of that moment, I lifted my gaze, and there he was. My Papa stood in his place, calm and almost completely still. Our eyes met for the briefest instant and in that moment, everything else ceased to exist.
When the first deep note of the organ finally echoed through the chapel, time itself seemed to tremble. I lifted my gown slightly, took a quiet breath, and began walking toward the altar. Dozens of eyes followed me, but I saw only him.
Copia stood tall in his Papa regalia and full face paint, his gaze fixed solely on me. With each step I took, his smile grew wider. In his eyes I saw everything — calm, tenderness, and something that looked like a silent “at last”. When I finally reached his side, we didn’t exchange a word. Our silence, our eyes, they said it all.
Silence settled over the chapel. Papa Primo raised his hands, looked over the congregation and spoke in a deep, ritual voice. “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 voice thundered through the chapel, its echo filling the space like incense smoke, wrapping around us both, as if this wasn’t the start of a ceremony, but a crossing into something entirely different. Something irreversible. Something enigmatic.
The chapel filled with whispered prayers and the gentle glow of candlelight. The air was heavy with the mingled scent of incense and fresh flowers, forming a nearly tangible aura. I was deep in thought, focused on Papa Primo as he led the ceremony with solemn composure. My mind drifted through memories and emotions that had brought me to this moment. It wasn’t until Copia gently took my hand, guiding me to speak our vows, that I returned 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, gently sliding 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.
“I, Papa Copia Emeritus IV, in the presence of Darkness and the Eternal Flame, take you, Giulia Marchetti, as my wife…” His mismatched eyes glinted 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, springing up from his pew.
Laughter rippled through the chapel. Even Primo, despite his attempt to remain solemn, couldn’t help but smirk. In that moment, Copia pulled me into his arms without a word. His lips met mine in a tender kiss, and for a heartbeat, the world fell away. There was only us, husband and wife, mocked by angels and blessed by demons.
*
Wine had long since stopped being symbolic of anything. Now it was simply everywhere. The tables sagged under the weight of food, laughter echoed off the stone walls, drunken toasts clashed with shouted conversations. Someone was singing off-key, someone else was attempting to dance on a table. Pure chaos. Every few moments another person approached us. Congratulations, wishes, hugs, empty words. I smiled politely, though my mind wandered elsewhere. I was grateful, happy, but I longed for a moment of silence.
At last, when the final guest had finished offering their blessings and I could finally breathe without someone’s hand on my shoulder, Copia took my arm and 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 memories.
“Here come the newlyweds!” Alessandra called out, already flushed from wine. “Come on, come on! You made it just in time before Terzo decided to strip again!”
“It was one button!” Terzo protested, though his shirt was already unbuttoned nearly to his navel. “It’s just hot in here… Especially with you around, cara mia.”
“You’re always hot,” Perpetua chuckled without lifting his gaze from his glass, “and every wedding ends the same. With you in the courtyard fountain.” The table burst into laughter.
“Speaking of excessive wine consumption,” Secondo said, glancing at Terzo with amusement, “remember our wedding, Margherita?”
“Oh no, please don’t…” Margherita groaned, covering her face with her hand.
“It was glorious.” Secondo went on proudly. “Three days straight of partying, everyone drunk before noon, and Terzo—”
“No, Secondo…” Terzo cut him off in a grave tone. “Don’t you dare, stronzo.”
“Tell us! I don’t remember that,” Copia said with genuine curiosity.
“You don’t remember because you almost fell asleep under the table, cuddling a bottle of Chianti, sciocchino,” Terzo shot back.
“Oh really? That’s new to me,” I laughed, watching Copia’s cheeks turn pink.
“Terzo drank a bottle of olive oil,” Secondo finished triumphantly, “because he thought it was wine.”
The entire table erupted in laughter. Even through my exhaustion, I couldn’t stop laughing.
“It was in a dark bottle!” Terzo defended himself. “And it was right next to the wine table. Besides, it had a nice floral bouquet.”
“A bouquet of grease,” Florentia snorted.
“You kept saying, ‘the wine has such velvety tannins tonight,’” Alessandra added, wiping tears of laughter. “And then you tried to baptize Iris’ cat with it.”
“You did what?” Iris asked, eyes wide.
“It was a sacrament!” Terzo cried, completely red now. “Your cat looked spiritually open.”
“A sacrament? Fratello, it took us a week to wash the oil out of his fur!” Primo laughed.
“Same with your hair!” Alessandra teased, ruffling her husband’s head.
“And then you climbed into the fountain yourself, saying you wanted to ‘purify yourself before rebirth,’” Perpetua added, trying to keep a straight face.
“I remember that. In your underwear!” 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 there with him.”
“I just wanted my fratelli to cleanse themselves with me! Oh, come on, I was young… And that, amici miei, is how memories are made,” Terzo declared proudly. “Now, I propose a toast to my little brother and my wonderful sorella Giulia!” he said, raising his glass.
“You know what?” I said aloud, glancing at Copia with a smile. “Maybe it’s a good thing our wedding is a bit calmer. For now, at least…” I added, giving Terzo a playful wink.
“Calmer?” Terzo raised an eyebrow. “Cara mia, the night is still young. To the newlyweds!”
“To the newlyweds!” Everyone echoed, glasses clinking in a chorus of laughter.
*
The time had flown by in such good company that it felt like a snap of the fingers. When I finally looked at the clock, it was already five in the morning. The room was bathed in that peculiar half-light of dawn. The candles flickering low, the tables looking like battlefields, and most of the guests long gone to their bedrooms. Some had fallen asleep where they stood. Someone was even slumped over a plate. “At least there will be memories,” I murmured under my breath.
Florentia and Iris were among the first to vanish, smiling, slightly unsteady, whispering something to each other before each disappeared to their rooms. Alessandra followed a little later, joining her sons, who remained 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 on Perpetua’s shoulder, lightly snoring, as if the entire night of celebration had simply wrapped around him and lulled him to sleep. Primo, Secondo and Margherita were just getting ready to leave.
Primo, Secondo, and Margherita moved slowly and with obvious effort. Primo complained that he’d have to buy new shoes because his current ones were trying to cut off his circulation. Margherita laughed mercilessly at him, while Secondo tried to preserve the last shreds of dignity, smoothing his rumpled robes and pretending he hadn’t nearly dozed off with his head over the salad bowl. Their laughter echoed softly off the walls, then gradually faded, until almost complete silence settled over the room.
As the men staggered toward the exit, Margherita turned back to the table. She stopped beside me, a glass in one hand and a wary look in her eyes. “Giulia? Where’s Terzo?” She asked, glancing around.
“Didn’t he go with Ale earlier?” I asked, blinking in surprise.
Margherita raised an eyebrow. “That’s what I thought too, but about an hour ago I ran into her nanny, who was asking if I’d seen him. Apparently Ale came back alone. She was looking for him too.”
A brief silence fell. We both glanced toward the open doors leading to the courtyard. Somewhere in the distance, a faint sound… A tambourine?
She looked at me. “Alright. I’m going to find him before he announces himself as the prophet of olive oil, standing naked in the fountain,” she muttered, sighing deeply as she drained her glass.
I was exhausted, dreaming of nothing but a soft, comfortable bed. I turned, bent slightly, and gently touched Copia’s shoulder. “Hey, caro… Time to head back to the room.”
He opened his eyes with effort, sleepy but smiling. He stretched lazily, then held me half in an embrace, drawing me close for a moment, as if unwilling to let the night go just yet. “Was that a dream, or the wedding?” He mumbled.
“A bit of both…” I whispered back, smiling.
Perpetua lifted his head from his folded hands and stretched lazily as well. “Fun night, sorellina,” he said warmly. “Really fun.” He got up and kissed me on the cheek, then headed toward the corridor.
I was left alone with Copia. He held me for a moment longer, then together we slowly made our way toward our suite. Behind us remained only half-full glasses, scattered decorations, and memories that would sound even funnier later.