Chapter Text
Copia awoke in a panic. Her heart was pounding out of her chest, her face was wet with a mix of sweat and tears. Adrenaline was coursing through the woman’s veins, causing a deep primal feeling of fear. She had shot up abruptly in her chair, knocking her jacket off her body. Her head whipped around, scanning the room for the attacker that had just been in front of her only moments before. But there was no one else in the room. It was only a dream. She was alone.
The third time this week. Copia groaned, and laid back down on the chair. She brought her hand up to her face and felt the wetness of tears under her fingertips. It wasn’t new, often if she was crying in her dreams, she would be crying in real life as well. She rubbed the tears between her fingers, watching as it dried.
She leaned over and picked her jacket off the floor, pulling it back over her shaking body. Her heart was still racing. It would take a while to get back to normal. All she could do was try and get back to sleep, and try to get enough rest so as to not be utterly exhausted the next day.
They wouldn’t do that. That won’t happen.
Copia took a deep breath, staring at the ceiling. She tried to focus in on the decorative tiles, tracing the swirling patterns with her eyes. On how the patterns repeated. But, her fears still attacked her. It was relentless. They weren’t even entirely in word form. Some fears were, but some were concepts. Some felt incomprehensible, other than instilling a dreadful feeling.
It won’t happen. It will not happen. Non succederà. Sono al sicuro. Non succederà. Sono al sicuro. Non succederà. Sono al sicuro.
Ever since she had gotten her ‘promotion’, the nightmares had gotten worse. Sleep was no longer a relief from day to day life. Even the good dreams she couldn’t remember once she awoke. The nightmares were vivid. Extreme. Violent. Realistic. Within her sleep all of her anxieties were real. She dreaded the end of the day.
Non succederà. Sono al sicuro. Non succederà. Sono al sicuro. Non succederà. Sono al sicuro.
Repeating the phrase was one of her only successful strategies for drowning out the repetitive and horrific worries that overtook her. Often they would overlap, turning into a jumbled mess of fear and reassurance, but it was better than only hearing her anxieties. But it still wasn’t enough. Visions of the nightmare flickered through her mind. Those were harder to ignore. Every time she closed her eyes, even just to blink, she could see it.
Would attempting to fall asleep even be worth it? Copia continued stared at the ceiling, not wanting to close her eyes. She was exhausted, but sleep was truthfully the furthest thing from what she wanted. There was no certainty that her dreams would be any different. For all she knew, her nightmare would pick up right where it was.
She adjusted uncomfortably on the chair, groaning in pain. It didn’t fit her body, no matter how Copia positioned herself. The arms dug into the back of her neck as well as her calves. Even in the few minutes that had passed, her legs had already gone numb. That was only the tip of the iceberg of the unpleasantness the chair caused on her body.
While she wasn’t old, she wasn’t young. Copia was in her mid-50s, her body could not handle sleeping on this hard piece of antique furniture. The cushion had to have been only an inch or two thick, and the entire chair was primarily wood. Finding a way to relax on it that wasn’t worsening her existing back or neck pain felt impossible. The woman shifted around again, the nerves in her legs tingling uncomfortably as pressure was taken off them. But no matter how she laid, it was no use. At least the pain made it harder to fall asleep.
“How much longer do I have to deal with this.” Copia grumbled to herself. She turned on her side, facing the back of the chair. Even Cardinals got a fucking bed… At least I have a door now. My room as Papa didn’t get that. Some great fucking trade off.
She would love to go back to her room she had as Papa. It was her. It was personalized. It was comforting. This current room was… not a room. Not a bedroom at least. It was an office, and a boring office at that. But, she couldn’t go back. She may have wanted to become Papa, but becoming Soror was not a job she signed up for, nor was it a decision she could undo.
Copia felt a twinge of guilt shoot through her chest. She should be grateful she even has a room of her own, not all clergy received one. Grateful that she was given such an opportunity, as crappy as it felt. The Ministry has done so much for her, she should be appreciative for all they’ve done for her.
Pressing her forehead into the back cushion of the chair, she apologized. “Mi dispiace tanto…” The Ministry as a concept couldn’t hear her, and certainly couldn’t hear her thoughts. But, the woman couldn’t shake the feeling that they could. Copia felt ill.
Copia squeezed her eyes shut to try and get her mind off the guilt, to avoid the paranoia about the ministry somehow knowing what was going on within her mind, but her brain quickly flooded with images from her nightmare again. It was unrelenting. Without visual distractions, they would always haunt her again and again. It was the same thing almost every night.
Her death.
Copia had hoped and prayed to Satan daily that after being promoted her nightmares about her untimely demise would improve. They should’ve, given the core of her fear was that after her time as Papa, that they would kill her like they did her half-brothers. But that was far from reality. If anything, the nightmares only worsened.
Why am I still so afraid? If they wanted me dead they wouldn’t have promoted me. They wouldn’t kill me if they needed me. Sister said they need me here. I promised her I’d stay.
She felt a sinking anxiety in her chest. But what if they don’t need me anymore. Then what?
Her mind began to spiral, layers of thoughts overlapping over each other, louder than she would be able to drown out through sheer willpower. Fears of her death, of her true role in the Ministry, of what her future holds, of what her life has been up until this point, the decisions she has made. It all overwhelmed her.
I need to talk to someone. I need to talk to someone. Copia got up without another thought. She gripped tightly onto her jacket, slinging it onto her arm.
At this time of night there was no one else in the Ministry she really could talk with. A few Sisters or Brothers of Sin may be awake, but Copia didn’t want to pester them, not with this. Besides, visiting them at this time of night might give them the wrong idea of what kind of company Copia desired. But she was desperate. She needed to talk with anyone. Just to distract her.
She walked over to the mirror in her room and leaned in to herself. Her makeup was a mess. The usually crisp lines around her eyes were smudged, with a few black lines running down her cheeks. She rubbed at the marks, to try and make it less obvious. But no luck. She’d just have to hope no one notices.
Copia put on her suit jacket and slowly opened the door from her room. She took a few careful steps to avoid the click of her shoes against the hard tile flooring. No one in the Ministry would likely care that she was out at such a late time, but Copia knew that she appeared distressed. People would ask about her and worry, or worse, think that she was even more emotionally unstable than they already believed after her whole “V” freakout.
The halls were dimly illuminated by a warm glow coming from the ornate wall sconces. It provided little light, only enough to not accidentally walk into a wall or trip on the stairs. In these parts of the Ministry buildings, it is not expected to be out and about at this time, so things are kept dark.
She walked down the stairs, down to the foyer. Moonlight shone through the frosted windows near the entryway, turning the usually warm colors of the building a soft blue hue. The blue was contrasted by the yellow lighting coming from the various connecting halls.
Copia made her way through the room, through the connecting hallways, until she reached an old wooden door. Beyond it was the mausoleum section of the Ministry’s headquarters. It had almost a chill to it, likely both from what the hall contained and from the literal cold temperature it was kept at.
It was fairly common to visit the mausoleum area of the building. In her Cardinal days, Copia often had important discussions with higher ups in the halls. It was considered somewhat customary to have meetings be made amongst the presence of the dead, as to still include or inform the deceased of Ministry decisions. Lower clergy and the laypeople of the Ministry were laid to rest within the crypts and niches that filled the walls, their identities marked with a small metal nameplate.
Each section of the hallway looked identical to the last. If it wasn’t for the aforementioned nameplates, one could easily believe they were going in circles. Deeper and deeper she went into the maze of crypts, until she hit a split in the path. One she had encountered countless times.
On either side of her, she could see what she had set out to find, and what she set out to avoid.
At the far end of one of the halls lay the bodies of her parents. Sister Imperator and Papa 0. Their bodies were set next to each other in separate glass coffins, both dressed in their uniforms. Copia seemed to almost hold her breath as she saw them, the sound of her own breathing feeling too loud. She didn’t want to wake them. She didn’t want them to even know she was upset. Copia was not here to see them.
She turned around, her heart still pounding in her chest. She continued to walk, picking up her pace but still taking each step as quietly as possible. Every so often, Copia found herself looking behind herself. But Nihil and Sister looked all the same.
And then, there they were.
Papa Emeritus I, Papa Emeritus II, Papa Emeritus III.
Her three half-brothers laid before her. The bodies of the three men were lined up side by side, a few feet of space in between the glass coffins. They were fully glass, just as Nihil’s and Sister’s were, revealing off the entire body. Each was polished and in pristine condition, completely devoid of any fingerprints or dust, excluding Terzo’s; A clumsy intern had scraped the glass while transferring the coffin, and Sister had insisted on not spending the money to replace it.
The coffins themselves were positioned on ornate catafalques, depictions of traditional satanic religious imagery carved into the deep colored wood. Each was unique, with carvings that seemed to almost represent them or their time as Papa.
Despite the many years that have passed since their death, they were still in pristine condition due to a mix of embalming and ritual. The most intense of embalming treatments can only uphold a body’s condition for a few years, and at the cost of the deceased’s appearance. The rituals had to be done on a monthly basis, which made touring with them difficult. Halfway through her time as Papa, they had them replaced with decoys for the tour. Not that any fan even noticed, as it was believed that they were fake anyways. Their real bodies remained now at the Ministry, and had been for a few years.
The sight of her brothers brought her a mixed feeling. On one hand, seeing the reality of their death was not exactly dispelling her fears of what the Ministry may do to her. But, there was also comfort in being with family, even if she wasn’t aware of their familial relationship while they were all alive. At least they looked peaceful, and remained in good condition. They looked as they did in life. She could pretend they were sleeping.
Her brothers were someone to talk with, or rather talk at. Copia began to ramble, mostly to herself, continuing where her mind left off.
“I’ve… done so much for the Ministry. I’ve dedicated my entire life to serving them. Yet… with every passing day… I find I am more unhappy here.” Copia began, slowly pacing back and forth before the bodies. She fiddled with her broach, twiddling the dangling ‘G’.
“It’s selfish to want to leave. I know… but I question how much longer I can deal with this. I… I am in so much pain daily. I barely sleep, and when I do it’s all nightmares. When I am awake I live in fear. Is this how to live? In constant fear of death? The Ministry has never threatened me… not explicitly… but…” She takes in the sight of her dead brothers. “I know it’s not completely irrational to worry.”
“But I’m Soror Imperator now. I am the boss. I call the shots. They wouldn’t kill their boss. No one would have the jurisdiction to.”
Copia clenched her hands nervously. “They wouldn’t.” Her voice was starting to shake. “I am needed. I have a purpose here. Sister said so.”
Unless I leave. A pit formed in her stomach the second the thought passed through her mind again for the second time tonight. If she left her position as Soror Imperator, she no longer had anything making her useful to the Ministry. She wouldn’t be near the top of the food chain anymore, nothing to protect her. Copia felt nauseous. She had told Sister about her wishes to retire. Sister knew it was something Copia was considering.
“Fratelli, guidatemi, cosa dovrei fare?” She mumbled, placing a hand on the cap of the nearest coffin of the three, Secondo’s. She stared at their bodies. They were as unresponsive as ever, as they were every time Copia came down to talk to them.
“Per favore… I need help.” Copia closed her eyes and leaned onto the coffin. “I- I don’t… I don’t know what to do…”
By now Nihil’s or Sister’s ghost would typically materialize from the bodies, either to grumble or to yell at Copia for waking them. But it was never the case with these three. No. They were always silent, as corpses tended to be. Copia didn’t want to wake them up necessarily, but she just wanted to talk to her siblings. It wasn’t something she often did anyways.
“I’m so miserable. But, I can’t leave. I promised Sister. I told her I’d stay, at least for V’s tour. They need me.” Her voice trailed off. “Non lo so… I don’t feel needed.”
The hall was once again painfully quiet the moment Copia stopped speaking. She could hear her own heartbeat, the blood rushing past her ears with every thump. It hadn’t improved since she woke. At least she had stopped shaking.
“…I’m so powerless.” Even as an Imperator, even with the power she held, she couldn’t let go of that feeling. It never left her. Only when touring as Papa had she felt even a semblance of control in her life.
Typically she would turn to Sister, or Satan forbid Nihil… for guidance on issues. She couldn’t. Not with this. Who did she have to lean on? She had no friends, her life was the Ministry. There were the Psaltarians, but… that would be no different than going to Sister.
She had no one.
Copia lifted herself off the lid, staring down at the bodies.
“Are… you even in there? Qualcuno di voi??”
The brothers looked all the same. Unresponsive. Unlistening. There was something so uncanny about how still they were. They looked like life-like wax figures. Copia felt in this moment painfully aware of reality.
I’m talking to corpses.
In the near decade since their passing Copia hadn’t seen their ghosts once. Not a visit. Not a word. Nothing.
They were her family. Sure, they hadn’t known Copia as that in life, but… something about their absence made her feel completely ostracized. The only living family she had was V, and he was practically a stranger. A stranger she had quite openly detested; Copia’s feelings on the man had no doubt been made known to Perpetua himself. She was isolating herself from her only remaining family. Anger was starting to well up in her body.
Well I have a good reason to dislike V. I do. But these fuckers, they have no reason. No right to just leave me. Copia could feel her emotions heighten. She wasn’t even sure anymore if she had good reasoning, and now she was worried that she was causing the same isolation to Perpetua. They only really had each other. But, that wouldn’t be the case if her half-brothers hadn’t gone ahead and died.
“Voi stronzi mi avete abbandonato qui!” The words came out through gritted teeth. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes.
With a blink, the tears began to flow down her face. Copia took a deep breath, trying not to cry any more than she already was. Her makeup was already a mess, she didn’t want it to run any more.
“Why haven’t you visited me.” Copia choked out, speaking to all three of her brothers. “I was a good Papa. A- A great Papa. I have dedicated my life, everything to the Ministry. What… What did I do wrong? I’ve done everything the Ministry wanted of me.” Her tears plinked against the glass of Secondo’s coffin.
Copia wanted nothing more than to just feel the comfort of someone. Someone to tell her that things would be ok. What she wished her own parents would say to her, instead of vague bullshit that would only make her more fearful. Why would they always do that? She had gone to them over her fears of death before, and they would never just say ‘you’re safe’.
But would that even be true? Has she ever been safe in the ministry?
She couldn’t stop staring at the bodies. They were definitive evidence of the Ministry’s cruelty. Sure, the Ministry believed in some harsher things, and ultimately wanted the downfall of humanity, but there had to be a limit, no? It just didn’t sit right with Copia. The Ministry wasn’t above murder, not by a long shot. They had a history of cruel acts. But, Copia had always been taught that there was a purpose behind it. This felt different.
There had to be a reason. The Ministry wouldn’t do that for no reason. Sister… must have had good reasons. Copia closed her eyes and tried to wrack her mind for what that good reason would be. Every member of the Ministry dedicated their lives to serving the Ministry and the dark lord. They would die for their cause, but… Copia could just see no greater purpose in the murder of her family. It couldn’t have just been for the sake of being an exhibit for fans. Maybe it would come to her.
There was a growing feeling of guilt within her body from questioning the Ministry’s decisions again. It wasn’t right. The Ministry serves a good cause, and has done so much for her. Even though the murder feels wrong, the Ministry must have had a right reason for it. Copia was certain of it, or at least she wanted to be. Wanting certainty was enough wasn’t it?
She opened her eyes, before catching something.
Off the reflection of the coffin, a light blue glow. Someone was here. Someone had been listening. Copia’s heart sunk in her chest, a sickening feeling. What had they heard? Copia had said quite a bit out loud. Feelings that she knew Sister knew she felt, but would still be detrimental to her to be heard. It had to have been Sister behind her. Nihil could give less of a shit about her, and would likely bolt in the opposite direction if he had seen any of his children in distress. Only Sister would stay.
“Sister- I.” Copia whipped her body around to face the ghost. She cut herself off. It wasn’t Sister. It wasn’t even Nihil.
It was her brother.