Tír na nÓg

The Vargas Brothers

X-x-X-x-X

Inwardly sighing, Lovino followed his younger brother- Feliciano- down the spacious corridor, the silver censer he held, enveloping him in a heady aroma that made his vision swim. All around them, the Acolytes and the old Priests were whispering, stealing glances at the two brothers. Though their words were drowned out by the choir's song as it seeped through the cracks of the old cathedral, filling all the rooms, Lovino didn't need to hear them to know what they were chattering about.

Choosing Day. The most important day for any sixteen-year old in Tír na nÓg. The day where they would decide what they wanted to do for the rest of their life. It was the day where traditions were kept or abandoned. In about a week, both Feliciano and Lovino would make a decision as to whether or not they wanted to continue down the line of priesthood. But first, they had to explore the city and see all the Vocations at work.

Which would be right after they completed this damned mass.

"Ve, fratello," Feliciano said as they drew closer to the music, the unearthly notes reverberating in Lovino's ribcage and striking him with an uneasy feeling.

"What?" Lovino snapped, narrowing his green eyes. Feliciano laughed softly and paused his walk, turning around to face Lovino, the wide, cinnamon eyes that matched his silky hair sparkling with his typical cheeriness.

"Are you excited about what's going to happen after mass?" the younger brother enquired, flashing Lovino a bright smile. Lovino smirked, an action that would've been accompanied by him folding his arms if it weren't for the blasted censer he was holding.

"To be done with those stuffy old geezers and their wretched moaning? Sì, I am quite excited," he retorted drily, liberally rubbing his forehead. Feliciano's smile wavered a little, he let out a soft sigh, and tilted his head to the side, the golden cross he wore around his neck swaying with the movement.

"Fratello, non c'è bisogno di essere così sgradevole," Feliciano chided gently, trying- but failing- at pretending to be exasperated with his older brother's… "antics". Lovino's upper lip curled back. He snorted.

"I'm tired of it all, fratellino. Honestly, I'm looking forward to leaving this hellhole on Choosing Day," the older brother grumbled. Feliciano's eyes widened in dismay, his mouth opened to form a perfect little "o" of horror.

"Non lo faresti!," he whispered, shaking his head vigorously- the little curl in his hair, wildly bobbing up and down. Lovino glowered at his younger brother, clenching his teeth together.

"Don't bet on it," he spat out between clenched teeth. Feliciano stared at Lovino, torn between feelings of hurt, anger, and surprise. Sure, the younger brother knew that Lovino had no taste for the mass, or the strict old priests and the stern-faced acolytes, but to actually leave? Especially, when Priesthood was the proud tradition of the Vargas bloodline, a duty that they had performed in Tír na nÓg for centuries. Looking at the kaleidoscopic stained-glass windows, the gilded altar illuminated with the soft halo of candlelight, and the arched ceilings decorated with the realistic oil portraits of gentle-faced saints, Feliciano couldn't imagine spending his life anywhere else.

Sure, the life of a Priest could be a bit boring, but it was a fulfilling and noble path. A good one to take. They were protected by the Exorcists, the Farmers adored them, and the Scholars respected them (even if they didn't always agree). The only vocation that really clashed with the Priests, were the Mages, whose teachings often conflicted with the Church's.

It was the only path Feliciano knew.

The music stopped, an eerie silence filling the corridor in its absence. Feliciano shook his head, adjusting his hat, and turned around, the white fabric of his cassock billowing around him. "Andiamo fratello, we're late," he muttered. Lovino snorted.

"I don't care," he grumbled as they reached the end of the corridor. His younger brother frowned briefly, before replacing it with a blank expression, and throwing open the heavily-engraved rosewood doors, revealing the liturgical east end- already filled with parishioners and visitors alike. They all turned, ogling at the two brothers with mildly curious expressions.

X-x-X-x-X

In front of the altar was a weathered old man- the Archbishop- clad in sumptuous silk robes the color of a fresh snowfall, and heavily brocaded with amber and crimson thread. He stared at the two brothers with a hefty amount of reproach. Catching his eye, Feliciano smiled sheepishly and dipped into a hasty bow.

"Sorry we're late, I know there's no excuse," Feliciano called out, hanging his head to hide the red seeping into his cheeks. A sea of hissing murmurs rose up from the crowd. The blush on the young Priest's cheeks deepened. The Archbishop shook his head, motioning for everyone to be silent.

Silence fell.

"At least you realize that, Feliciano, you may come up here." The old man frowned as Feliciano walked down the aisle. "Where is Lovi-"

Right on cue, Lovino stumbled in drunkenly- the censer swinging from side to side with reckless abandon, the delicate bells that decorated it chiming frantically as they were carelessly knocked against each other. "Right here, pops, this damn incense is giving me a headache and making it hard to walk straight," Lovino drawled, staggering right up to his brother's side.

"Fratello…" Feliciano smiled ruefully as more whispers rose from the crowd- these ones scandalized. The Archbishop looked appalled.

"Come up, both of you," the old man groaned, burying his face in his knobbly hands, "and don't do anything without me authorizing it, Lovino," he added sternly as Lovino trudged up the velvet-carpeted carpeted stairs with all the enthusiasm of a dead fish.

"Good thing I took a crap beforehand," Lovino grumbled, scowling viciously. The assembly before them continued to stare with an incredulous expression- at least the visitors. The parishioners were far too used to the eccentric tendencies of the Vargas brothers to get surprised. Hopefully, time would temper the older one, or else the whole church would get condemned to hell.

"That's no way for a future Priest to talk," the Archbishop snapped out of the corners of his mouth as he turned to face the congregation. Lovino deepened his scowl, his eyes flashing with pure, unbridled venom.

"Who says I'm going to be a Priest? I can go somewhere else on Choosing Day."

The old man's head snapped in the elder brother's direction. "Don't be ridiculous, where else can you go? You're hardly a Farmer and you're not cut out to be a Warrior, nor are you careful enough to handle explosives, or any other number of things the other Vocations demand of you!"

Lovino smiled bitterly, "In other words, you have me trapped," he stated in an ugly tone. Feliciano jerked his head back, his eyes wide and pleading.

"Fratello, smettere," the younger brother said urgently. Lovino glared darkly at him, alternating his murderous stare between the ancient Archbishop and his young, feminine-faced brother.

"Sta 'zitto," Lovino shot back. Feliciano cringed. The older brother lifted his chin and stared defiantly at the Archbishop. "Whether I stay here or not, I will do as I damned well please. Actually, what the fuck am I doing here? I know this shit already. If I do stick around, and if I don't-" he shrugged "-I don't need to know it." The old man's face twisted in rage, he pointed one gnarly finger at the doors.

"Then get out!" he thundered, his face flushing to an ugly puce in a rare display of temper. Lovino sneered, dropping the censer on the ground- the silver cracking, allowing smoldering flecks of incense to scatter across the plush carpet.

"Felicemente," he simpered, embellishing his derisive comment with a florid bow before storming out of the room. All eyes followed him out. Feliciano watched him go with a concerned expression, biting his bottom lip. Fratello… Are you really that miserable? I'm sure it wouldn't be that bad if you just behaved… He clasped his hands together, quickly glancing back at the portrait of the Virgin Maria painted onto the domed apse in rich metallic golds, and soothing shades of blue and peach.

He inhaled deeply. Surely, his big brother wouldn't leave him. Lovino could be gruff, temperamental, and a bit selfish, but he wasn't heartless enough to abandon his ancestor's legacy and his little brother. Nor, was he brave enough to step out on his own without knowing how deep the waters were. He was fully aware of the fates of those who couldn't complete the Initiation or keep up with their Vocation's expectations. They would be casted out and forced to live a destitute lifestyle in the slums of Tír na nÓg. No one wanted that life.

Feliciano exhaled.

"So…" a male voice piped up, breaking the tense silence that had befallen the room. Everyone turned in the direction of it, straining their necks to catch a glimpse of its owner- a cheerful-looking blonde around sixteen (probably visiting for his Exploration rite) with sky-blue eyes framed by silver-rimmed glasses. The Archbishop grimaced.

"Yes?"

The man pursed his lips together, scratching the back of his head. "I heard there was supposed to be food here, or am I mistaken?" He shook his head, "Naah, it can't be. He definitely did mention something about bread and wine," the blonde muttered under his breath. The Archbishop's jaw dropped.

"Do we look like the Chef Vocation to you?" he asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice. The blonde's eyes widened, before fluttering shut.

"Well, what a gyp."

Someone needs to take Divergent away from me, as well as all pictures with the Priest Italies, Ducal Prussia, and Prussia x Nyo!Japan. This is like my 3rd story attempt with the Priest brothers, and I really like this one so far! :D Can you guess as to who the blonde at the end was? X3 If you can't, I'll be sad! XD But yeah, the rules of the city will be explained better in the second chapter and we'll be seeing a couple of cameos as well! :D This story is pretty light-hearted as of now, but there is some angst regarding everyone's' favorite, bed-wetting, f-bomb-dropping, tsundere Italian. Will he? Or will he not?

I just hope I didn't butcher Feliciano's personality too badly. He's a little more mature and serious in this fic, but in some ways- still the lovable dork we all know. If we ever get to the fasting, you'll be seeing the gluttonous, pasta-loving side of him that we all love. There will be a plot eventually, but as of now, we're going to alternate between various Vocations and characters to get a better understanding of Tír na nÓg and stuff.

As for the Catholic Church rituals, no offense to any Catholics at all... and sorry for butchering pretty much everything. This is a fantasy AU, so don't come hunting me down, please?! *Hides in a corner* But yup, remember to R&R! I can't improve without your feedback!

Translation notes:

Fratello- Brother

Fratello, non c'è bisogno di essere così sgradevole- Brother, there is no need to be so unpleasant

Fratellino- little brother

Non lo faresti!- You wouldn't!

Andiamo fratello- let's go brother

Fratello, smettere- brother, stop

Sta 'zitto- shut up

Felicemente- happily