Here Comes The Son (Ghost Band / Papa Emeritus fic)

You Will Wear Your Independence Like a Crown

It was three days later and Copia was still unconscious. His many injuries, cuts and bruises slowly healing but he was yet to open his eyes.

Imperator grasped the foot of his bed in the infirmary and turned her eyes frequently between his face and the infirmary paraphernalia - machines monitoring his heart and oxygen levels and the drip attached to his arm feeding him nutrients and painkillers. She sighed as she noticed a pile of sleeping ghouls on one side of the bed and on the other side, another set, awake and alert but saying nothing.

She had heard that they had had to move him from his original room to a much larger room to accommodate his ghouls after they outright refused to leave. Ghouls were, of course bound by Hell to be loyal to and to obey the Ministry and their Papa in particular but Imperator had never encountered a pack so dedicated to their Papa. She found herself smiling at the thought. Some of these ghouls had been Terzo's and strictly speaking owed loyalty to him but Copia had asked them to be his and they had transferred their absolute loyalty to him without hesitation or question. It had seemed strange to her at the time that he had asked rather than ordered, because even though she couldn't bring herself to call him by his title, he was Papa after all. He could demand anything.

The difference, she decided, was that Copia loved them too. Terzo had certainly appreciated his ghouls, most at least, but Copia showed genuine affection towards them. The idea of ghouls responding to affection was a surprise to all at the Ministry, with some refusing to accept it. All except Copia.

As she gazed at him in the infirmary bed, she couldn't help but recall when he had told her that Terzo's ghouls had agreed to join him. He had been so excited but she had ruined the moment for him, telling him that the only other choice was to return to Hell - the implication that fell into his mind was that even he was better than Hell. His face had crumpled and he looked downcast. How many times had she seen that expression over the years? How many times had she put it there? Even at the time she had felt guilty, but had said nothing. She had always found it difficult, if not impossible to offer comfort.

She knew it was cruel and deep down she knew why. Betrayed while pregnant by the love of her life, Papa Nihil, she had become filled with anger and bitterness, wearing them like a cloak for over fifty years. Worst of all, she had focused all of this on Copia, her innocent son. He hadn't deserved an absent, uncaring mother, or that his father had been unaware of her pregnancy. The fact he had grown up to be as accomplished as he was said more about him than anything.

He had survived a childhood, both alone and lonely in the Ministry; books and rats his only friends for a long time. She remembered when Terzo first wanted to play with the younger Copia. It had been actively discouraged by Papa Nihil, but Terzo was rebellious even then - a streak he inherited from his father. Raised as a future pope, he was serious about his studies but outside of lessons, prayers and masses, his time was his and he wanted to spend it with Copia. She found herself smiling faintly before losing the smile in a moment at another memory - that she had killed his only childhood friend. Looking at him now, she wanted more for him than what she had given him, but in reality, that wasn't a high bar. A final memory, from Copia's early touring days, played across her mind and the sinking feeling in her stomach told her that it was as if she had only now understood its meaning for the very first time.

"I don't understand how you can waste your valuable time on such creatures."
"What creatures, Sister?" Copia asked.
"All of them! Those damned rats for one and even your ghouls. You're showering affection on creatures who have no concept of it."

Copia had looked her in the eyes, his stare unwavering before he spoke again, his voice stern and clear.

"All creatures recognise and respond to affection." He paused briefly, part of him hoping she would understand he was talking directly to her, but the rest of him afraid she would take offence. "Provided it's given, of course."