He was but a simple priest, following the lord's teachings despite the world being wrecked with poverty and the plague; when life failed him, his faith did not. He had always supposed himself to be a man of God, and had dedicated himself to the chur...
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_ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟶𝟻 ; 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 _
𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅-𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 in his hand suspiciously, as he glanced from Matthias, who was looking up at him with expectant eyes, and back to the chocolate.
"You looked upset today, so I thought something sweet would cheer you up..." The child had just claimed, wearing a sweet face.
Children were truly perceptive to the emotions of others. Lucius hadn't intended on worrying the poor child with his own preoccupations, but alas, it seemed that even a child could read his face. He didn't feel good on taking candy from a baby--or chocolate from a child, in this case--but couldn't deny that he wished for some as well.
"You're such a sweet child, Matthias," Lucius said, smiling as he praised the child, who brightened up at his honeyed words.
"Can I be excused from my chores tomorrow, then, please!" He asked, his eyes glittering at the prospect of not having to sweep the church floors tomorrow. Laughing at his endearing childishness, Lucius shook his head.
"My apologies--but an important guest will be arriving soon, so we must keep the church clean and pristine. You understand, yes?"
"Boo..." The child pouted, but with a sigh, nodded. "Fine..."
His expression softening, he picked up the small boy, whose eyes widened in surprise at how high in the air he suddenly was. "You've worked hard today; how about we get you to bed, Matthias?"
"Okay..." The child said, beginning to realize how tired he was, with a yawn.
Lucius walked down the empty, dark hallway, that was only illuminated by candlelight, his shoes gently clicking against the floor. His mind drifted, as he thought back to the events at the marketplace.
(Y/N) (L/N).
He had finally learned your name today, albeit not at your will--one of the vendors had called you by name while you were purchasing some of their vegetables. He thought he knew most of the people who lived near the church, and yet he hadn't met anyone with the surname "(L/N)" before...
He quietly entered the room the children slept in; it was lined wall to wall with dozens of beds, in which children of all ages quietly slept. There was even a crib affixed beside the window in which a newborn slept. Lucius walked over to Matthias' empty bed, and placed him in it, smiling kindly to the tired child.
"Goodnight, Matthias. Sleep well," he whispered, tucking him in.
_
A series of shrill, feminine screams sounded from the typically empty house, as the girl shielded herself from the objects being thrown at her with her arms, flinching whenever something would hit the wall and shatter.
Her uncle, a stern man named Reynold (L/N), was yelling and screaming at her, throwing whatever he could get his hands on in her direction. Nothing was an exception; not porcelain plates or even family photos.
"You whore!" He fiercely hollered, throwing a cup at her. It was just plastic, but clattered and fell to the ground rather loudly. "You're the reason my brother's dead! If he hadn't have had you, he'd still be alive, you bitch! And you dare tell me to 'get out of here'?!"
"I-It wasn't my fault!" She weakly retorted, her body trembling as she held her defensive stance, her hands shielding her face from an incoming vase. The blue ceramic crashed and broke into a million little pieces, covering the ground where (Y/N) stood. "I didn't--I didn't want--"
"You killed them!" He accused, seemingly rather sentimental at the loss of his brother despite how he began to violently launch a framed family photo at (Y/N), the glass cover shattering and the frame falling to the floor.
"You're much more at fault than I am!" She rebuked, her voice gaining volume as she stared at him with intense eyes. "You... you were complicit in it all! Don't go and try and act like a victim when you were a perpetrator! I'm the one left suffering, not you!"
"You, you really think you're the victim?!" He guffawed, as if he found the notion absolutely ridiculous.
"So just leave me alone--!" (Y/N)'s words were cut off by the blunt force of a clay coffee mug hitting her face, before falling to the floor and falling to pieces. A hideous bruise began to form on her left cheek, blossoming in hues of blue, brown, and purple. She let out a shriek, backing away from him as he advanced forward.
She cowered from him, the pain still fresh from the hit. She was well aware that even with the loud scuffle, none of her neighbors would dare call the police--they likely thought that she was assaulting someone right now, not the other way around. And the bruise on her face would only corroborate their baseless claims.
_
That Sunday, Lucius had noticed a strange increase in amount of hushed whispers and knowing glances traded between the worshipers near the end of mass. The elderly women especially seemed to be shooting venomous glares in a certain direction, however, until the crowd began to clear as mass ended, he was unable to see who they were all gossiping about.
Whilst he found gossip unsavory at best, he wasn't too interested in whomever they had chosen to bully this time--till he saw who they were casting suspicious glances at. (Y/N).
Her face was unusually downcast in comparison to her relatively upbeat demeanor from yesterday, like she had been thrown into the throes of mourning yet again. Her veil and the church's unusual lighting cast a shade over her face, but he could make out an ugly, large bruise marking her face. It was new, and clearly not an accident...
The info that she was generally disliked by most people was not hidden from him. He knew well and good that the other church-goers believed the rotten rumors surrounding her, even when they spouted baseless lies like that she murdered her own family. It seemed that gossip could never be turned around, even though she went to church and wore mourning clothes everyday.
It was horrible that she had been hurt, and people didn't console her, but rather ostracized her and called her a murderer.
He truly pitied her. That was... as far as he should've felt, anyway.
Truly, he had no right to be so concerned with her personal life; it was none of his business. Unless she specifically asked to be comforted, he had no right to want to do such a thing for her. He had no right to be angry for her.
And yet... a foreign feeling was invading his body, like a virus. His pale hands were clenched in tight fists and he felt his teeth grind against each other. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down, reminding himself of the bible verses he had memorized and of the lessons his pastors had taught him: to forgive.
