1291, End of the Crusades, Vatican, Rome.

Blood was dripping down the sacred floor as the chattering room had visibly stopped, the scene was disturbing to say the least, the man, a priest who had dared to speak too much, was lying on the ground in a puddle of his own blood. AM was furious, dagger clenched in his fingers as he watched the scene as if it were nothing, and for him perhaps it was nothing after the horrors he had witnessed during the Crusades.

In fact, after he had been elected pope, AM had been forced to take part in the sacred war, emerging victorious after years of fights, far from his beloved Rome and his beloved wife, you. But after living and seeing the horrors of years of war away from you, AM came back completely different, the man you once knew was gone, and he barely spoke to you. It almost looked like a bloodthirsty monster, and there was nothing anyone could do.

It had been months since you had the same conversations you used to have, and even AM knew that even though he was tied to you for eternity, your marriage was fading away, and it was just a distant memory in his mind. You were two strangers sharing bed. You were his Holy Mary, and now you were nothing but a boredom.

And you were there, in the great council room, observing the scene petrified, like the rest of the cardinals who were part of the council. AM remained in his long papal robes, imposing and threatening as he took his seat again, breathing with difficulty, now even just one word too many, and the end would be the same as the poor man on the ground. The tension was high in the room, and you didn't know what to do.

AM was now a man of war, and his only goal was power, and he didn't care how he got it, he would get it at any cost.