Chapter Text
Prologue: Italy, Spoleto, 1557
“Run, Francesco! You must run faster, my love, or else we will be caught!”
“I cannot run any faster, Gerardo,”
Francesco panted, coming to a dizzy stop in the middle of the dense woods, the trees like a thick cloak of earthy colours, concealing them and keeping them safe. For now.
“I feel faint,” Francesco breathed, leaning back against a tree trunk, his pale face turned up against the black sky.
He could still hear the distant angry shouts of the villagers, building and building.
“Oh, il mio amore,” Gerardo said as he walked over to his mate.
"So fragile, such a delicate creature you are, Francesco. My Frankie, a little flower. Yes, my little flower, il mio fiore,” Gerardo murmured as he petted Francesco’s brow.
“Come, amore. We must keep moving,” he whispered, pressing his lips against the shell of Francesco’s ear before scooping him up in his arms and turning to run through the forest with his mate in his arms. Before Gerardo could even take one step more into the forest, an arrow pierced the back of his shoulder.
The shock of the sharp pain made Gerardo cry out and drop his mate on to the ground.
“Gerardo, lupo forte, what is the matter?” Francesco cried, sprawled in the dirt, before the shouts and chants suddenly got louder and louder and a storm of villagers ran into the small clearing in the forest, baring pitchforks and fire.
Gerardo tore the arrow from his body and ignored the pain shooting through his back; it would be heeled in a second anyway. He pulled his mate up from the ground and held him tight to his chest, away from the surrounding threat of the villagers. A feral growl ripped out of his throat as they circled the lovers, brandishing their weapons and moving closer.
“Stop,” a hollow, echoing voice suddenly said.
The mob stopped their shouts and a thick silence settled between the enemies. The crowd parted and a cloaked figure made its way into the clearing. The shawl concealing the head was removed and a pair of icy eyes set in a weathered, leathery face was revealed.
“Francesco Iero, you have made a grave decision,” said the ancient woman in a rasping, deadly voice.
“You left a young woman unmarried on her wedding day to run away with a Child of the Devil. You have committed the worst of sins and you, and your mate, are sentenced to death.”
She took a step closer to Francesco and Gerardo, seeming unafraid of the monster before her.
“Your family will never forget what you have done to my granddaughter. You will never forget,” she hissed, the cold chill of her voice sending shivers through Francesco’s small body.
The old woman suddenly leapt back and threw her arms up into the air and clapped once. The thick, black clouds trudging in the sky parted suddenly with a flash of light and the Heavens opened up on them, spilling harsh, cold drops onto their skin.
The crowd began chanting in low voices, a choir of vengeful murmurs. The old woman still whispering murderously at the couple; you will never forget, you will never forget.
The wintery blue of her eyes grew paler and paler as the chanting crowd grew louder and louder until the colour was barely distinguishable from the whites and she threw her head back and clapped once more.
A tall, enforcing wall of flames shot up around the lovers, the black smouldering flames, tinged green at the tips, encasing them in a circle.
“Gerardo!” Francesco cried, searching blindly for his mate as the thick clouds of smoke blocked his vision.
He felt strong arms around his back and turned around immediately to bury himself in the chest of his mate.
The flames were building, thickening, spreading along the forest floor and trapping them in a smaller and smaller circle.
Francesco began choking on the smoke as he struggled to breathe, the dirty black clouds clogging his lungs. He could feel Gerardo heaving with the smog too. He began to cry louder, realising that they would not be able to escape, the continuous chanting of the hateful mob still on going in the foreground.
“My love, do not let them hear your cries,” Gerardo choked out in to Francesco’s ear.
“They do not deserve anything from you, especially not your pain. You are not afraid, are you? I’m right here, amore, and I’m never going to leave.”
“No, lupo forte, I am not afraid,” Francesco said hoarsely. He was not afraid. He would rather die with Gerardo than live without him.
“We will see each other again, won’t we?” He begged.
“Always, il mio fiore. Until next time…” Gerardo breathed.
The only thing he could manage before the black consumed his brain was to hold his love tighter.
Until next time, Francesco thought before he felt the flames licking at his feet and the smoke finally clogging his lungs enough that he could no longer breathe.
The mob chanted on into the dark, lonely night.
You will never forget, you will never forget.