Ghost Band Oneshots

Papa II Emeritus, Secondo

Papa Emeritus II x Knight! Reader
Second P.O.V
a/n : Papa II is going to be OOC & I apologize for any inconsistencies.

The bright flames ignited a long forgotten flame in your chest. It was the unholy ceremony for the Dark Lord. His unholiness was dressed in his papal attire, you'd been the right hand of Papa Emeritus the second for as long you've been alive. The blade of Papa Emeritus was the title that was given to you due to your unwavering devotion to him. This unholy ceremony was to grant an excellent crusade for Papa Emeritus II to spread the words of the unholy master. Everything was correct, all he needed was a sacrifice.

The wooden doors opened to the room, sound of dragging chains on the cobblestone echoed throughout the room.
The sacrifice was dragged by their arms, skin covered with bruises, cuts from bloodletting, and soot from the floor of the cellars. Their eyes were drained of life, they flopped on the altar table like a recently dead fish; unmoving and accepting their fate of no longer seeing their home. The jeweled blade entered their chest, watched them jolt up from the pain that sparked them back alive.

You retrieved the bloodied blade from Papa Emeritus II, wiping the blood away with a handkerchief. Candelabras were put out by the acceptance of the dark lord.

You and Papa Emeritus II walked past the courtyard, the echoing sound of your iron armor moving danced throughout the open space. A clergyman had stopped you both, discussing where to speak to the problem with the lost followers that don't want to hear the truth.

"Do you want me to deal with the non-believers, your unholiness?" you asked.

"No." He looked at you with a stern expression. "You have better things to do than to care for some non-believers."

His chasuble dragged on the marble floor almost matching the noise of your sabatons clicking on the stone and dirt. The ferula that he held was polished as it tapped with every step he did, the silver ghrucifix shined with the sun as You couldn't help but admire the subtle beauty of Papa Emeritus IL Secondo. He ignited a flame that seemingly could never be put out.

His hands were scarred from his rituals but they all showed the passage of knowledge with each scar yet he still admired your scars that covered your face; a miracle he murmured with each subtle kiss on the healed scar to try and make it disappear but it never went away. Your iron helmet rested on his lap, it felt like ages feeling the warmth of the sun on your face.

His chambers were littered with undergarments of previous siblings of sin who he desired for a moment or who desired him. A dozen of siblings of sin hurriedly put on their clothes and left as You opened the door for him to walk his chambers in instead of opening it for the siblings of sin who hurried out. It was a sacred ritual that you both had created to ease the stress and pain from the long awaited crusades.

His scarred hands removed the helmet and bevor that seemingly had become your second skin. The same scarred hands that held your crying face all those years ago. He removed your iron gauntlets which still had blood from the previous crusades in them. His hands took off vambraces, couters, rerebraces and pauldrons from you. His hands stopped at the center of your cuirass, carefully untying it and the faulds that came along. You untie the iron cuisses, poleyns, greaves and sabatons. Leaving you in a hauberk and an aketon.

You dipped the wet rag, twisting it so it would remain damp, carefully wiping away his papal face paint. He wasn't the young man from his youth as wrinkles appeared whenever the paint was removed. He is beautiful in your eyes. His closed eyes opened since you had stopped wiping away the papal paint.