My Lord God

(A/N) Alrighty, so this is not my first one-shot, nor is it my first story, however, it is my first Trinity Blood story, so be kind. It was an idea I got after I saw the episode under the one city. I can't remember what city, but it was a really cute moment, where Allessandro stopped Petro from killing some vampy-chick. Anyway, since then, I've been obsessed with how cute this pairing is, and I had to do this. Plus, we all know that Francesco abuses Allessandro, it's darn-near cannon.

Pairings: Mentions of Noncon Francesco/Allessandro, hinted Petro/Allesandro (meant to be light and cute)

Warnings: Mentions of sibling-abuse, noncon, incest, homosexuality, religion, and the fallout there of.

Description: Everyone assumes Allessandro is naturally skittish, but is he? What if it's just an effect of something much worse? Brother Petro is about to find out...

Disclaimer: If I owned Trinity Blood, these two would be a cannon pairing, and Francesco would be in jail for abuse of such an adorable pope.

My Lord, God

Pope Allessandro XVIII, the three hundred and ninety ninth Pope of Rome, hated loud noises, especially shouting. But being alone was by far worse. When he was alone, he couldn't pretend that everything was okay, that nothing hurt.

So, when Cardinal Francesco, his older brother, was called away elsewhere, presumably on business, he at first celebrated. His brother was scary, always yelling, and hitting. But he was going to be gone!

But that meant that he'd be all by himself at night, after the servants went home He'd been forbidden from bothering the gaurds by Francesco and really didn't want the welts the punishment would leave.

He couldn't be by himself all night, though. He'd start crying again, and that always made Francesco angry. So, he had to find someone to follow around. This set him to wandering around the cathedral. Luckily, he was soon intercepted, else he'd have gotten horribly lost. It seemed that a terrorist had been in the area, and Francesco had ordered more security.

Hence the reason Brother Petro Orcini quite literally bumped into the poor little Pope. A yelp escaped the boy, and he blushed. 'Surely from embarrassment at my clumsiness.' Petro presumed. However, Allessandro remembered the big, blue-haired male. He'd been so kind in the underground city.

"Oh, Brother Petro." He said, his voice wavering.

"Good evening, Your Holiness." Petro answered, a small, barely visible smile on his face. He was quite fond of the little Pope. Admittably, that fondness had changed just a bit since the rescue mission, but Petro still wanted to protect him.

"G-good evening." The Pope answered, Allessandro was nervous, an everyday thing, to be sure, but this was different. This wasn't the cold, slithering nervousness he gets around people, and especially his brother. No, this nervousness was warm, bubbly. If he hadn't been so afraid, he might've giggled because of it.

"Is there a reason your Holiness is wandering around the cathedral? Your brother told us you'd be in bed all evening..." Petro was a little confused. Hadn't the little blonde been feeling ill?

Allessandro flinched. Perhaps Francesco was punishing him? He had cried the night before, which attested to his slight limp that day. Luckily his robes made it hard for anyone to tell if he was limping or not. It was quite possible Francesco was punishing him even more for the transgression.

But Allessandro really didn't want to be by himself. In fact, he found, he rather wanted to be around the Brother. He felt...safe around the blue-maned male. So, he used the first excuse he could think of.

"I...I w-wanted to take a b-bath, but..." He paused, wondering how much he could tell. He ended up telling some of the truth, "But Francesco always bathes with me...a-and I d-don't want to be by my-myself."

Petro was stunned. Why was a thrity five year old man bathing with his seventeen year old brother! (These are guessed ages, I looked everywhere and I could find neither of their ages. -Otaku) But that wasn't the issue here.

"So, you were looking for someone to...bathe with you?" Curse Paula for going with the Cardinal. This was something a woman should deal with, not a soldier!

"N-no!" The little Pope squeaked, his eyes going wide. "I-I just need someone in the room...So I'm not a-alone."

Petro understood a little better now. The pope was skittish, and easily startled. He wanted someone to watch his back. The upped security probably put him on edge enough. He nodded, strapping his lance onto his back. The desperate smile that appeared on the teen's face caused something in his heart to clench.

"Let's go, your Holiness."

Allesandro jumped, but began leading the dark-eyed soldier to his apartments, and the monumental bath housed therein. He usually liked the bath, even though Francesco made it almost unbearable to be in there with him. But Allesandro enjoyed looking at it.

Waterfalls, controlled of course, flowed into the swimming-pool sized bath. They were divided by temperature. The right, freezing cold, the left, burning hot, and the center was always the perfect combination of the two. Roman columns seperated the bathing area from the washing area. The steam and spray-off from the waterfalls made it seem almost ethereal.

Petro had never been in the Pope's bath berfore. He'd never had a reason to. Now, though, he had to admit, he was impressed. It was huge, and somehow, unexpected. It seemed far too grand for the little Pope's tastes...

Allessandro went behind one of the pillars, removing his vestments carefully, folding each peice exactly as Katerina, in one of her mothering fits, had taught him. He was feeling a little silly, now that he realised what kind of trouble he had brought down on himself. Soon, he stood in little but a towel, the bruises and cuts on his skin bared, but he kept out of sight of the Brother. Francesco would likely kill him if he found out anyone but Francesco himself had seen Allessandro bare.

However, the bluenette male wasn't happy being hidden from. He was gaurding the Pope! How was he supposed to do that if he couldn't see the boy? He slipped around, trying to find the child (who seemed to be...humming?) in the mist.

It was surprising when he found Allessandro. The boy was breathtakingly beautiful in the mist, the dim light. He was washing, a cloth covered in soap spreading suds along his pale skin. He was far skinnier than Petro had thought, and worse, there were scars and cuts, bruises marring his skin.

Who would dare lay a hand on the Pope?! The emmissary of God, abused and beaten like some mongrel dog! This explained quite a bit. He, like all the others, had always assumed the boy was just surprised, and frightened, by how humans acted, but this...His nervousness, his fear of people, his flinching, it all made sense.

And it infuriated Petro beyond beleif.

He must have made some noise in his anger, clenching his gauntleted hands, or growling, because the boy flinched, turning with wide frightened-doe eyes. Allessandro moved quickly, pulling his towel up to fruitlessly cover his abused skin.

"B-brother P-Petro!" He cried, both terrified and ashamed. What would the man think?! He'd be angry with him, yell! No, no, he couldn't take it if Petro yelled at him!

"Your Holiness...How..." Petro was trying to maintain his calm, because if he didn't, he'd yell, and the already scared boy would shut down. He'd never be able to find out who'd done it, if the boy wouldn't speak.

"I-tt's not what you think!" Allessandro croaked, his brain moving in a thousand directions at once. He managed to spit out the excuse Francesco had drilled into him.

"I-I'm very clumsy. I fall a lot, a-and I trip!" He lied, quiet. His bangs covered his face, as tears stung his eyes. He hated lying, but if Petro didn't beleive him, Francesco would hurt him so bad...And he'd probably never see the blunette again. Somehow, that seemed far worse than the impending punishment.

Petro, in a fit of frustration, strode forward, and seized Allesandro's arm, causing the teen to squeak out a "St-stop!" and cringe. He examined the old wounds, finding a few as recent as a day or two ago. All of the cuts were straight, long and narrow, several in places no one can reach themselves. None of them were jagged or ripped, like his own scars.

"Please, Your Holiness, don't lie to me. I am your Knight. I've seen enough injuries to know these weren't accidental, nor were they self-inflicted. Who is doing this to you?" Petro's voice was hurt, and low. Someone had Allessandro so scared he was lying. Petro was beyond angry.

The young Pope however, was coming into a terrified calm. Francesco had trained him all his life, so he knew what to do when something like this happened. But the Brother was being stubborn, refusing to beleive his lies. So...What to do?

The best way to get what you watn is to give something in exchange. Francesco often drilled that into him during his nightly ministrations. Shoving his fear, his hatred of the role he was about to play, aside, Allessandro dropped the towel, stepping forward, in the same slow, sensual gait that made Francesco forget his anger, forget to yell. His arms were crossed loosly in front of him, almost an invitation to pull them away from his body, as he stood, naked, in front of the surprised preist.

"He can't find out that you've seen. I'll give you anything, DO anything...But you can't tell anyone." His hands were on the chest plate of the armor, as he pressed his naked form close. A dark, frustrated blush spread across the blunette's face, as he took the boy's shoulders and forced him away at arms' length.

The same brown, frightened-doe eyes, as he glared at the boy who was his Lord, who was closest to God. Surely God wouldn't choose such a wanton creature as his Voice on Earth. This, like the fear, the weakness, the trembling, must be the effect whatever man was responsible had on the boy. Petro's fury was so near the surface that Allessandro was shaking with fear of it.

"I want you to be safe, your Holiness. I want you to be free of the influence of this monster. I want you to be the glorious Pope I beleived you to be." Petro sighed, his anger and disbeleif leaving him tired and drained.

Allessandro couldn't stop shaking. Again, this man had defied what was normal! He'd refused to accept his lies, his advances. What did he WANT?! Allessandro was finding it hard to breathe, he was so scared. Francesco was going to find out, and it would be bad this time. He wouldn't be able to walk for days, he knew it...

"P-Please! Please, y-you c-can't tell anyone! Please!" He begged, his frantic tears sliding down his cheeks.

Petro's face became stony, and he resolved he never wanted to see the Pope beg again.

"If you ask me to, Your Holiness, I will not speak of it. However, that will not stop me from figuring out who has done this. I will punish them for you."

Again, Allessandro was torn. He...He didn't want Francesco punished. His brother wasn't doing anything wrong. He was just teaching Allessandro to be a strong leader! But...Anything that painful...couldn't be good for him...Could it?

"I...I d-don't know...What I want..." Allessandro sobbed, tears coming harder now, the only thing keeping him standing were the Soldier's hands, still on his shaking shoulders.

Petro was unsure what to do. Damn Paula again, for leaving him without feminine backup. It was obvious the Pope was afraid. More so, even, then when he'd been facing the undead soldiers underneath the foreign city. He swallowed, before pulling the boy into a hug.

Allessandro found himself pressed to a cool, metal breastplate, strong arms around him, cradling him. He hadn't been hugged since he was ten years old, and Katerina had found him crying in his bed from nightmares. He almost fought, until he remembered that he had offered himself to the blunette, in exchange for his silence. Something in him deadened at the thought of Petro taking that offer.

The Knight felt the boy stiffen, as if waiting for something. But...There was nothing to-Dear God! Petro pushed the blonde out again, still clutching his shoulders, shaking with embarrassment and frustration.

"I'm not going to do anything to you, unless you tell me to! So stop thinking that I will!" Petro barked, causing a series of flinches, and a high whine. He sighed. Looking into those doe-brown eyes, surprised at how scared and cowed he looked, he spoke, softly.

"Listen, Your Holiness, I am your sword. I am your sheild. I am your Knight and Protector. Your words are my command, and I will accept no one else's reign. If you told me to die, I would, gladly."

Allessandro's eyes widened more, if that was even possible, and his breathing slowed with every word. He...He had a protector. Someone willing to follow him even now, as weak as he was. Francesco was wrong. Big Brother had lied...

"S...Say it again...Please?" Allessandro's voice was low, croaking, as if he hadn't spoken in years. Petro nodded, and spoke the words over and over again, many times, as many as his Pope asked him to.

When Allessandro was satisfied, he smiled, for the first time in a long time, and Petro blushed, causing Allessandro to blush. Petro finally let go of the teen, stepping back a few feet.

"You should finish your bath, Your Holiness." He said, looking away. Allessandro went back to where he was sitting, to finish washing. Before he sat down, he stopped.

Not looking back he asked, "Petro? Will you stay with me?"

Petro smiled, feeling useful.

"Always, Your Holiness."

End

Otaku: Alrighty, just a few notes. I hope I kept them in character, I tried as hard as I could. Petro especially is hard to write! Also, I know most of you will probably boo me for the way Allessandro was acting. Well, pay attention:

When a child is abused, for a very long time, they become quite twisted, in what is right and what is wrong. They may begin to beleive that their abuser has the RIGHT to abuse them, that it is their own fault. They often end up doing their best to protect their Abuser, right up until the end. This includes keeping the abuse secret. Hence Allessandro's strange behavior.

Thank you.

Allesandro: Wow...Do I really talk like that?

Otaku: On the show you do. Or atleast, that's how I interpret most of your mumbling.

Petro: Careful what you say, woman. He is his Holiness the Pope.

Otaku: Yeah, but I'm not Christian.

Petro: HEATHEN!! Chases Otaku around with his spinning-lance thingy

Allessandro: sweatdrop I guess I'll have to end this one then...

Thank you, and good night!

P.S. (I think I might give this a sequel, where Francesco finds out, and they work together to stop the abuse. What do you think? If I get a positive response, I might consider writing it. -Otaku)