You’re going to Hell for this one, that’s for sure.
He lifted the glass to his lips. The rim was dirty, with a small red smudge around it that he rather hoped was lipstick. The wooden table he leant his forearms on was scratched and worn, initials incised into the surface, a proclamation of all those who had been here before. All those who, too, had nursed a cup of the tavern’s finest ale, praying for the sunrise to wait and the shadows to linger just a small while longer.
Praying.
Not praying, exactly. It was praying he was escaping from. He wasn’t praying for anything - not tonight, anyway - but rather hoping. It felt wrong to pray for anything at all when he was so flagrantly betraying his vows, so his God had taken a backseat tonight. He was hoping sunrise would wait. He was hoping that when he returned - because even he knew that he must return eventually - the abbot wouldn’t be too hard on him, though he knew that even daring to hope that could be true was probably as much of a sin as his sneaking off had been in the first place.
And so the young monk had found himself, as the bells died down after their midnight prayer, taking himself not to his bed but to the front gates, and down into the village and into the tavern. They were used to it here; he wasn’t the first monk to steal away in the dead of night and find solace at the bottom of a beer glass, and he wouldn’t be the last, either. But this wasn’t something he had done before. His disregard for his holy orders had shocked him, but he comforted himself by hoping that God would understand, for how much could his virtue be truly rewarded, if he hadn’t sinned at least once? To know the taste and joy of sin and disregard it - for he was quite certain that after tonight, he would disregard it - was surely of worth more merit in His eyes than to be free of sins because there had never been any desire to sin. To ignore the temptation after having once had it would, the young monk told himself, be of more merit in the end.
And so he sat, bathed in dull candlelight as the hours before dawn burned away like the wax pooling at the bottom of the heavy brass candle holders. The tavern was quiet, and nobody made any move to speak to him. He didn't want them to. He didn't want to hear their confession (because a holy man in a place of drinking was sure to be cast in some drunkards role of confessor for the night), but it was more than that. He was terrified that some prompting would send the confessions tumbling from his own lips, loosened by alcohol and rebellious freedom, and deeper entrench his sin. His tongue would betray him as he had betrayed his vows, giving voice to the thoughts that lurked in the darkest corners of his mind. Because the monk wasn't suited to holy orders. He hadn't ever really wanted to be cloistered away from the rest of the world, it was just that his parents already had three sons, and to avoid inheritance disputes, they sent him into the church to take the habit and dedicate his life to God. He was nineteen years old, and before now, he had never seen the inside of tavern after dark. He had never left the monastery grounds without permission. He had certainly never missed the prayers they were supposed to attend in the middle of the night (though several of his fellow monks often chose to remain abed rather than rise for their early morning service, so he felt confident his absence would not be noticed until the morning) and he had never taken pleasure in the act of sinning. He was pretty sure that of the seven deadliest, he had crossed off at least three this night. He had committed the sin of envy as he looked round the tavern and witnessed there the life he may one day have had. He was on the way to gluttony, emptying his glass and motioning to the barmaid to bring him another. And when the girl at the other side of the tavern caught his eye, he was guilty of the sin of lust.
Looking at his newly refilled glass of ale, he downed the drink in one. The girl was young, and pretty, and had that look about her that said she was far from virtuous. That she was in a tavern at all this night - and without a husband or father to accompany her - spoke volumes about her questionable sense of morality. But, thought the monk, who am I to judge? He had never known a woman before, never taken one to bed or sent love notes and pretty gifts. And now, if he remained true to his vows, he never could. Her cheeks bore hints of make up, her lips a soft coating of rouge that even the monk knew no proper respectable woman would wear. But it didn't matter. He didn't need a respectable woman. He needed exactly the opposite.
With a nod of her head to the door, the monk rose from his seat. His cassock swept the floorboards as he moved towards the exit, went through it and found himself in an entryway that held a set of stairs. She was waiting, one hand on the bannister, head cocked and a curious smile on her face. He wasn't just betraying his vows now. He was betraying God. He was betraying the abbot, and his parents. And perhaps most importantly, he was betraying himself. Betraying the life he had for a few snatched moments of sin that could never be repeated. He was betraying his immortal soul, for how could he know for certain that God would grant him forgiveness?
You're definitely going to Hell for this one, the voice inside his head whispered.694Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqPqsv0qeyN
But without much delay, the young monk took the girl by the hand and allowed her to lead him upstairs. Vows of chastity were left at the door as he fell into her bed, and though he knew that he may be paying for this moment for the rest of eternity down in Hell with the devil, he couldn't find the will to care. He knew that the betrayal of everything he had previously known, of everything that was solid, and safe, and certain in his life would forevermore be a curse, but he also knew that it was worth it, for just one small, minuscule taste of the life he could never possess.
A/N: I went a bit abstract with this one, thinking about a metaphorical betrayal and broken promises rather than an actual physical one between two characters. It's also a little over 1000 words but I hope that's okay!694Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPTaS9aeSDg
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