The Church of Saint Catherine, Florentine Countryside.
TW! Mentions of SA.
***
Y/N laid down on one of the pews, looking up at the vaulted ceiling of the church. Her father had chosen to hire a Byzantine to do the design, instead of an Italian, making the comparably-new church feel hundreds of years old. It was an outdated style, but one of magnificence. Stain glass windows and highly detailed frescoes decorated the wood interior, with plenty of hand-carved elements.
The central fresco, which sat above the altar, was of Saint Catherine -- the patron saint of Siena -- as she reached out to hold the hand of a visible Christ. Her father had always told her that Catherine was her personal saint, as she too was a woman who had to fight for her convictions. She had also been sent to Florence for the sake of peace, which comforted Y/N -- if her life had so many parallels to that of a saint, how could she be living incorrectly?
Francesco sat on the pew beside her, his body just inches away from the top of her head, and he looked to the large fresco she was staring at.
"Saint Catherine... who was she?" He asked, entranced by the image.
"You don't know your Italian saints?" Y/N asked, not judgmentally, but definitely with an air of curiosity.
"Not well."
"She was the daughter of a merchant in Siena, and when she was seven she declared her life to God. Of course, when she was a bit older, her parents wanted her to marry -- her older sister's widow, no less. She cut her hair in protest and began fasting, declaring that God may be the only man in her heart. She wrote extensively on God, and when she was twenty-one she had a spiritual marriage with Christ himself... people thought she was mad, but she is venerated in Siena. She gave everything she had, she believed in the Lord, she spread his word... she was a real woman."
Francesco was quiet, staring at the painting of the saint, who wore white robes and a dark cloak. A halo clearly defined her as a saint.
"My father always said I should look to Catherine and Athena when I needed guidance," Y/N spoke quietly, "To be a woman of God, and to be a woman of War and conviction."
"I would like to meet your father," Francesco said suddenly, "He built this church, yes?"
"Yes, before he even knew I was coming to Florence. Father Gasparo wanted to build a church in this land, one meant to service farmers in an accessible way."
"How so?"
"Well, after mass in Latin, Father Gasparo will go back and explain the sermon in Italian," Y/N explained, "And this church is so beautiful, despite not collecting donations, because Gasparo wanted the common man to see God's grace."
Francesco nodded, and Y/N shifted her gaze upwards once more, to the vaulted ceiling.
"I come to this church every Sunday, and Father Gasparo has taken every confessional I have ever had in my life," Y/N told Francesco, "He knows about me, almost as much as God himself."
"I wasn't aware you were so devout."
Y/N nodded, "I share my devotion in unconventional means for a woman."
Francesco chucked, "Everything you do is of unconventional means for a woman."
"I sincerely hope that is a compliment," Y/N spoke, shaking her head with a smile.
Francesco reached into her pew and took up her hands, holding them gently. She saw he was smiling, and looked at peace.
Y/N studied his hand in her grasp. It was soft, and covered with ink -- a sign of a banker. His fourth finger had a slight indent from where his pen laid in his grip.
"Do you want to marry me, Y/N?" Francesco whispered the question.
"Well, yes... but there are certain things we must sort out beforehand."
"Such as?"
"Well, we would start by discussing terms of our marriage. Once the two of us agree, you will have to meet my father and he, and Leonardo, will have to agree. I'll have to figure out the next moves in my career, too. We can then publicly announce the engagement."
"Your consultation career?" Francesco asked.
"My father had hoped it would be more than consultation," Y/N spoke quietly, "Over the past few months he has been exploring the possibility of having his position split, in order for me to inherit a title."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, when father steps down or passes away, he would like Leonardo to become Head of the Papal Armies and me to become Head of the Siena Armies... he believes I could."
"Is it a dangerous position?" Francesco was looking down at her now.
"Not terribly so -- not any more dangerous than being the daughter and private consult to one of the strongest military men in Italy. Unless Siena marches, but we won't anytime soon, I think."
Francesco looked back at the fresco, "So, what are these terms you'd have me agree to?"
"We don't have to discuss it now, Francesco... it's late, and we're in a house of God."
"I have a feeling God will hear us either way," Francesco joked, squeezing her hand, "Come on, I won't be able to sleep."
Y/N sat up, and turned to him, "Well, there are certain things I haven't told you about me, which I fear... well, I never thought I would tell them to anyone, but you mean so much to me, and... I fear you may not love me after I tell you."
His face grew serious, but he firmly held her hand.
"Do you know why I came to Florence?" Y/N asked softly.
"No, not exactly."
"Well, when I was twelve, we were at war with the Orsini. I was spending my days helping the soldiers on camp prepare -- and on this particular day, I was helping to feed the horses. The man who was with me, Pietro, stepped away to gather more water -- he was away for just a moment when three men came and threw a sack over me. They tossed me into a grain cart and bound my wrists and ankles. After a few hours, we got to the Orsini base and they brought me to a battle tent, where they took off the sack. I met Jacopo d'Orsini, Clarice's father. He had ordered my kidnapping, to negotiate my release in exchange for my father to surrender... but he told the men who took me that they--" Her voice cracked as she suppressed a tear, "They could do what they wanted with me until the negotiations were done."
She looked at Francesco's face, and saw something tense in his jaw.
She continued, "My father's men attacked as soon as they noticed I was missing from camp. The man who found me, Nardo, was the same man who taught me to use a blade. He cleaned the blood off of me, and clothed me, and swore he would never tell anyone about the condition he found me in. He told me his sister, too, had been violated... and she had to become a nun after her fiance left her... he brought me back to my father, and I didn't speak for weeks. I didn't tell anyone what happened until Leonardo came home from school to see me. I told him."
Y/N was crying, or rather her eyes were dispensing tears, but she spoke unwaveringly.
"Then, I told Father Gasparo in confession, and he told me that I did not need to ask for God's forgiveness -- that God knew I was still pure in soul. He told me that I never needed to speak of it again, and God would understand that too."
"Why are you telling me?" His voice was strained, and she could see tears in his eyes.
"Because... after I told Leo and Gasparo, they wanted me to be examined by a physician. I wouldn't allow any of the doctors near me, but they got a Nun to come from Rome to see me. She informed me that the damage caused by the men would likely leave me unable to bear children of my own."
Francesco didn't react, but she could see him swallow dryly and that same tensing in his jaw.
"I need you to say something," Y/N whispered.
"I love you," Francesco blurted out, tears falling down his face, "I love you."
Y/N raised a hand to his cheek, and wiped tears away with her thumb, "Will you be able to be happy without children of your own? Don't you want to be a father one day?"
"Not as much as I need you," Francesco spoke, pulling her close. The arm of the pew separated them, now stood, pulling her into an embrace. She leaned her head against his chest, and he enveloped her in his arms. She felt him kiss the top of her head.
"So, you still want to marry?" Y/N asked, looking up at him.
"Yes," Francesco nodded, "Absolutely. With whatever terms you have."
"Okay, then I should tell you now that you will be required to refer to me only as Y/N the Great in public."
He laughed, thankful for her joke, as he leaned in to kiss her. After a few minutes, Y/N pulled away, and smiled at him, "I think God may start to get upset if we continue."
"Perhaps."