Broken Wings
folder
+S to Z › Trinity Blood
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
2,940
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+S to Z › Trinity Blood
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
2,940
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Trinity Blood, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Broken Wings
Broken Wings
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone recognizable in here because I am not worthy enough to create such a wonderful universe.
Warnings: There will be torture in here. I will post a warning at the top of the chapter should it get more descriptive than it currenty is.
Author's notes: This is my NaNoWriMo project and is an on going thing as I polish it up and add to it (nope, it's not complete even at 50k words). If you like Cardinal Fracesco diMedici, I wouldn't suggest reading this. Also, this is my take on the vampires and Crusniks. I do know the creator's actual background for them, but I like my way better. *smirks* Deal.
Spoilers for the end of the series, but ignoring everything that happened after "The NightLords" arc.
@@@@
Snarling, Cardinal Fracesco di Medici stormed through the Vatican’s elaborate gardens, his robes appearing almost as black as his mood in the light of the full moon, He had just heard that a few more of the bishops had been swayed to Cardinal Catarina Sforza, his half sister’s side thus depriving him of those allies. Ever since that incident with the Silent Noise Machine and Archbishop Alfonso D’Este, their uncle, Francesco had been desperately trying to regain the political power he had lost by backing the Archbishop against Catarina.
But now, Catarina was gaining even more support since her precious agents had returned from the Empire, not only bringing back the grateful thanks of the Empress Agusta Vradica but various information needed to start down the path towards peaceful talks between the human kingdoms and the Empire.
Even His Holiness, Pope Alessandro XVIII, was looking more and more towards their half sister than to him for advice.
“How dare she take what is mine by right!” Francesco snarled, pacing the small clearing isolated by tall hedges covered in roses. Located near the outside wall of the Inner Grounds, it was too far away from the Main Building for casual strolls, and the perfect place to plan his moves against Catarina in peace. “I have fought and clawed my way to my position, gathering allies who are willing to look to me for leadership and guidance, but she just waltzes in and starts taking my power away.”
“You know, it’s not entirely her fault,” remarked a deep, gentle voice from above him, and Francesco whirled around, his gray eyes searching for the intruder even as his hand dropped to the gun hidden at his waist loaded with the silver bullets. Just because vampires couldn’t make it on to the Vatican Grounds did not mean he was foolish enough to wander around unarmed after sunset.
Instead of an intruder standing on top of the hedge, Francesco found a man clad entirely in white robes descending from the star filled sky on four wings composed of white feathers while his shoulder length blond hair glowed in the full moon light.
Falling to his knees before the angelic being, Francesco bowed his head, all thoughts of fighting vanishing from his mind. “My Lord Angel,” he breathed in a worshipful tone.
Gentle fingers brushed over his short brown hair. “Rise my child, and we will talk.”
“My Lord Angel, what did you mean that it was not entirely Cardinal Sforza’s fault?” asked Francesco as he climbed to his feet. He did not know why God had sent one of His messengers to him, but if this was a sign that the Vatican was in more trouble than he originally thought, then Francesco would do anything and everything possible to do as the angel instructed.
That unearthly beautiful face tilted to gaze at him from behind the blond hair that had fallen into eyes as blue as sapphires. “Your sister is under the influence of the Fallen One, an angel banished from His Paradise,” the angel remarked, his voice hard. “Thought Cardinal Sforza, he is manipulating the minds of those around you to take away your power because he fears you and what you can do. He has also set up the events to cause you to fall out of favor with His Holiness.”
Someone with the powers of an angel corrupting the minds and souls of those around him, turning them from Francesco’s guidance and leadership. It was such a simple explanation that the Cardinal wondered why he hadn’t realized it before. Straightening up, he squared his shoulders and met that sapphire gaze with a spine of steel, knowing what he must do to free the Vatican and its people from the grip of the Fallen One. “How do I find this Fallen One and stop him?”
Smiling, the angel held out his hand, and Francesco gingerly took the syringe, staring in fascination at the glowing blue liquid it contained. “This is a sedative to knock him out. To stop him, you must break him, body and spirit. Only then will his influence on this Holy Place be destroyed.”
Break him? Was it even possible to break an angel, even a fallen one? How would Francesco even start on such a project?
“You must break him like you would break one of the cursed ones that are called vampires,” remarked the angel, and Francesco started. He had not realized that he had spoken out loud and a faint blush stained his cheeks. It must have sounded like he was questioning the angel’s instructions, which he would never do. “As to find the Fallen One, his wings were blackened to show his exiled status, and he would be someone close to your sister. We also, unfortunately, bear a strong resemblance to each other.”
Francesco studied the angel, his eyes flickering over the sharp and beautiful features, the blond hair bleached almost silver in the moonlight, and he felt a growl start in his chest as a name slipped past his lips. “Father Abel Nightroad.”
It had to be the bumbling but gentle priest from the Department of Foreign Affairs. He was the only one that fit the description even if Francesco had never seen his wings. With as bulky as the AX robes were, it would be possible to hide the feathered appendages with no sign that they were actually there. The bumbling attitude would make it easy for people to confide in Nightroad while allowing him to dispense advice that they would listen to with his gentle nature. How could Francesco have been so blind to the deceptive nature of the priest?
The rustling of feathers pulled him out of his building fury, and he looked up to find the angel had spread his wings, ready to depart. Hesitantly, Francesco took a step towards the angel, his empty hand outstretched in an attempt to keep the Heavenly Messenger there as doubt clouded his mind. Could he truly stop a Fallen Angel and save the Vatican? It seemed like too large of a job for just him as it settled across his shoulders, making him feel like Atlas with the world on his back.
“Believe in yourself and your mission and you cannot fail, my child,” advised the angel, before he sprung into the air and vanished into the night with a mighty flap of his wings.
For a few moments, Francesco stared after the angel, unable to completely believe that the Heavenly Messenger had truly been there, but a gentle warmth bled through his glove, drawing his gray eyes down to the faintly glowing needle, the only proof that it had not been a vision or a dream. Righteous fire burned in his veins as he gently closed his fingers around the syringe. He had been charged by God to stop this evil before it corrupted His House permanently, and he would not fail at this task. To do so would condemn not only his soul, but the souls of the truly faithful.
Turning, Francesco swept back to his quarters, his robes billowing about him as he began to carefully plan his moves against Father Abel Nightroad of the AX.
@@@
Landing near a desolate building in Rome, only a few blocks away from the Vatican, the angel folded his white wings and sighed in relief as they were absorbed into his body. He bowed his head as if suddenly weary, but his shoulders were shaking, and he threw back his head, his laughter echoing through the night. As if summoned by the noise, two young men, one still a teenager, emerged from the shadows and patiently waited for the blond to regain enough composure to speak to them.
“Was the fool that easily to manipulate, Mein Herr?” inquired the man with the knee long ebony hair, his words emerging on a cloud of clove scented smoke.
“I knew he was a jealous idiot, but to discover he was a zealot as well was an unexpected bonus,” remarked the blond. He was Mein Herr Contra Mundi, leader of the Rosen Kruenz Order, and no more an angel or angelic being than the two standing before him were.
“The Vatican seems to breed them stupid,” agreed the teen, an amused smile on his face as a stray breeze ruffled his short brown hair. “It’s almost too easy to play with them. Isn’t it, Panzer Magier?”
“Unfortunately, but they are amusing creatures, Puppeteer,” replied Isaak Fernand von Kämpfer, his clove cigarillo delicately held between two fingers. His pale eyes turned to their leader, who had finally managed to rein in his laughter. “Now what, Mein Herr?”
The Contra Mundi smirked, a cold and calculating look on his beautiful face. “Now that fool will dispose of my annoying brother, and we start moving out people into position to move against those that would oppose us.”
This time, his laughter was joined by his followers before the shadows swept forward to swallow them, leaving only their laughter echoing through the darkness.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone recognizable in here because I am not worthy enough to create such a wonderful universe.
Warnings: There will be torture in here. I will post a warning at the top of the chapter should it get more descriptive than it currenty is.
Author's notes: This is my NaNoWriMo project and is an on going thing as I polish it up and add to it (nope, it's not complete even at 50k words). If you like Cardinal Fracesco diMedici, I wouldn't suggest reading this. Also, this is my take on the vampires and Crusniks. I do know the creator's actual background for them, but I like my way better. *smirks* Deal.
Spoilers for the end of the series, but ignoring everything that happened after "The NightLords" arc.
@@@@
Snarling, Cardinal Fracesco di Medici stormed through the Vatican’s elaborate gardens, his robes appearing almost as black as his mood in the light of the full moon, He had just heard that a few more of the bishops had been swayed to Cardinal Catarina Sforza, his half sister’s side thus depriving him of those allies. Ever since that incident with the Silent Noise Machine and Archbishop Alfonso D’Este, their uncle, Francesco had been desperately trying to regain the political power he had lost by backing the Archbishop against Catarina.
But now, Catarina was gaining even more support since her precious agents had returned from the Empire, not only bringing back the grateful thanks of the Empress Agusta Vradica but various information needed to start down the path towards peaceful talks between the human kingdoms and the Empire.
Even His Holiness, Pope Alessandro XVIII, was looking more and more towards their half sister than to him for advice.
“How dare she take what is mine by right!” Francesco snarled, pacing the small clearing isolated by tall hedges covered in roses. Located near the outside wall of the Inner Grounds, it was too far away from the Main Building for casual strolls, and the perfect place to plan his moves against Catarina in peace. “I have fought and clawed my way to my position, gathering allies who are willing to look to me for leadership and guidance, but she just waltzes in and starts taking my power away.”
“You know, it’s not entirely her fault,” remarked a deep, gentle voice from above him, and Francesco whirled around, his gray eyes searching for the intruder even as his hand dropped to the gun hidden at his waist loaded with the silver bullets. Just because vampires couldn’t make it on to the Vatican Grounds did not mean he was foolish enough to wander around unarmed after sunset.
Instead of an intruder standing on top of the hedge, Francesco found a man clad entirely in white robes descending from the star filled sky on four wings composed of white feathers while his shoulder length blond hair glowed in the full moon light.
Falling to his knees before the angelic being, Francesco bowed his head, all thoughts of fighting vanishing from his mind. “My Lord Angel,” he breathed in a worshipful tone.
Gentle fingers brushed over his short brown hair. “Rise my child, and we will talk.”
“My Lord Angel, what did you mean that it was not entirely Cardinal Sforza’s fault?” asked Francesco as he climbed to his feet. He did not know why God had sent one of His messengers to him, but if this was a sign that the Vatican was in more trouble than he originally thought, then Francesco would do anything and everything possible to do as the angel instructed.
That unearthly beautiful face tilted to gaze at him from behind the blond hair that had fallen into eyes as blue as sapphires. “Your sister is under the influence of the Fallen One, an angel banished from His Paradise,” the angel remarked, his voice hard. “Thought Cardinal Sforza, he is manipulating the minds of those around you to take away your power because he fears you and what you can do. He has also set up the events to cause you to fall out of favor with His Holiness.”
Someone with the powers of an angel corrupting the minds and souls of those around him, turning them from Francesco’s guidance and leadership. It was such a simple explanation that the Cardinal wondered why he hadn’t realized it before. Straightening up, he squared his shoulders and met that sapphire gaze with a spine of steel, knowing what he must do to free the Vatican and its people from the grip of the Fallen One. “How do I find this Fallen One and stop him?”
Smiling, the angel held out his hand, and Francesco gingerly took the syringe, staring in fascination at the glowing blue liquid it contained. “This is a sedative to knock him out. To stop him, you must break him, body and spirit. Only then will his influence on this Holy Place be destroyed.”
Break him? Was it even possible to break an angel, even a fallen one? How would Francesco even start on such a project?
“You must break him like you would break one of the cursed ones that are called vampires,” remarked the angel, and Francesco started. He had not realized that he had spoken out loud and a faint blush stained his cheeks. It must have sounded like he was questioning the angel’s instructions, which he would never do. “As to find the Fallen One, his wings were blackened to show his exiled status, and he would be someone close to your sister. We also, unfortunately, bear a strong resemblance to each other.”
Francesco studied the angel, his eyes flickering over the sharp and beautiful features, the blond hair bleached almost silver in the moonlight, and he felt a growl start in his chest as a name slipped past his lips. “Father Abel Nightroad.”
It had to be the bumbling but gentle priest from the Department of Foreign Affairs. He was the only one that fit the description even if Francesco had never seen his wings. With as bulky as the AX robes were, it would be possible to hide the feathered appendages with no sign that they were actually there. The bumbling attitude would make it easy for people to confide in Nightroad while allowing him to dispense advice that they would listen to with his gentle nature. How could Francesco have been so blind to the deceptive nature of the priest?
The rustling of feathers pulled him out of his building fury, and he looked up to find the angel had spread his wings, ready to depart. Hesitantly, Francesco took a step towards the angel, his empty hand outstretched in an attempt to keep the Heavenly Messenger there as doubt clouded his mind. Could he truly stop a Fallen Angel and save the Vatican? It seemed like too large of a job for just him as it settled across his shoulders, making him feel like Atlas with the world on his back.
“Believe in yourself and your mission and you cannot fail, my child,” advised the angel, before he sprung into the air and vanished into the night with a mighty flap of his wings.
For a few moments, Francesco stared after the angel, unable to completely believe that the Heavenly Messenger had truly been there, but a gentle warmth bled through his glove, drawing his gray eyes down to the faintly glowing needle, the only proof that it had not been a vision or a dream. Righteous fire burned in his veins as he gently closed his fingers around the syringe. He had been charged by God to stop this evil before it corrupted His House permanently, and he would not fail at this task. To do so would condemn not only his soul, but the souls of the truly faithful.
Turning, Francesco swept back to his quarters, his robes billowing about him as he began to carefully plan his moves against Father Abel Nightroad of the AX.
@@@
Landing near a desolate building in Rome, only a few blocks away from the Vatican, the angel folded his white wings and sighed in relief as they were absorbed into his body. He bowed his head as if suddenly weary, but his shoulders were shaking, and he threw back his head, his laughter echoing through the night. As if summoned by the noise, two young men, one still a teenager, emerged from the shadows and patiently waited for the blond to regain enough composure to speak to them.
“Was the fool that easily to manipulate, Mein Herr?” inquired the man with the knee long ebony hair, his words emerging on a cloud of clove scented smoke.
“I knew he was a jealous idiot, but to discover he was a zealot as well was an unexpected bonus,” remarked the blond. He was Mein Herr Contra Mundi, leader of the Rosen Kruenz Order, and no more an angel or angelic being than the two standing before him were.
“The Vatican seems to breed them stupid,” agreed the teen, an amused smile on his face as a stray breeze ruffled his short brown hair. “It’s almost too easy to play with them. Isn’t it, Panzer Magier?”
“Unfortunately, but they are amusing creatures, Puppeteer,” replied Isaak Fernand von Kämpfer, his clove cigarillo delicately held between two fingers. His pale eyes turned to their leader, who had finally managed to rein in his laughter. “Now what, Mein Herr?”
The Contra Mundi smirked, a cold and calculating look on his beautiful face. “Now that fool will dispose of my annoying brother, and we start moving out people into position to move against those that would oppose us.”
This time, his laughter was joined by his followers before the shadows swept forward to swallow them, leaving only their laughter echoing through the darkness.