A Game of Chess
By Sargent Snarky
Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood, as should be obvious by the fact that I'm writing fanfiction.
Summary: Abel sits in a quiet café and plays a game of chess with a fellow lurker.
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Abel sits at a table in a quiet café, waiting while the waitress retrieves his usual beverage of choice. He is alone in the café, save for two men three tables over, playing chess, but Abel does not mind the solitude. In fact, he prefers it, not being in the mood to deal with other people.
Closing his eyes, he lifts a hand to his face and removes the round-rimmed glasses, folding them and setting them gently on the table in front of him; he can see just fine without them, after all. Nonetheless, he leaves his eyelids shut, pinching the bridge of his nose and pushing his lengthy bangs out of his face, instead.
"Here you are, Father!"
The rattle clink of a cup and saucer cause him to open his eyes, looking up at the waitress. The ghost of a smile passes across his face, and he thanks her, reaching forward and picking up the small teaspoon. She nods and bids him enjoy before leaving him alone. He absently stirs the tea for a while, letting his eyes drift over the café.
Eventually, his gaze settles on the chess players and their game. Each man plays well, and it is a close and careful match, but it is nearly over; white suddenly takes the lead and leaps ahead. Obviously the white player has simply been toying with the black player, letting him feel confident before pulling the carpet out from under him. Abel takes a sip of his sickly sweet tea and lifts an eyebrow.
"I forfeit. You've won, again. That was, what, the third time today?"
The black player tips his king over, sits back and throws up his hands. He is laughing and sighing at the same time. The white player smiles faintly.
"You are amazing. I thought I was good, but you put me to shame!"
"You were doing well for a while."
Abel blinks. The voice is familiar, though he cannot place it. He wonders…
"You let me."
The white player shrugs. "Perhaps."
"Are you up for another game?" Abel interjects after taking another sip. "I would like to play you."
The white player nods, his concealing hat bobbing but not falling off. "Sure, but I won't go easy on you."
"That's fine."
"I want to see someone else get stomped." The black player moves, pulling up a third chair to the chess table and sitting to the side. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Not at all."
Abel, tucking his glasses into a pocket and picking up his tea cup, migrates over and takes his place, setting the cup aside and resetting the black pieces. Concentrating on that task, he does not look up to see the hitherto unseen face of his opponent. But then, as a white-gloved hand reaches out and moves a pawn two spaces forward in a standard opening gambit, Abel looks up.
He freezes, eyes widening, then narrowing. His opponent smiles with mild amusement as Abel's fingers curl into fists.
"Cain."
"Hello, brother. Don't give me that look. You've known all along, ever since you came here a quarter of an hour ago. Before, even. You've just been pretending, trying to convince yourself otherwise."
Abel opens his mouth to deny it, but he finds he can't. What Cain says is true. Abel glares at his brother, who chuckles.
"Just like the old days."
"Hm."
"Oh, quit sulking and just play already."
"You will not win."
"Neither of us will if you never make the first move."
Abel at last does, grudgingly pushing his first black pawn forward, a mirror image of Cain's move. Each concentrates on the game, now, ignoring everything – even each other – save for the two-tone chessboard and the array of pieces. Neither needs to gauge the other, remembering all too well how the other tends to play and react.
Vague memories surface of a time almost a millennium ago, when they used to sit and play in their spare time, with Seth watching silent and still from the sidelines. Sometimes, Lilith would watch, as well, though often she would use the lulls to read or fold origami or tinker with some pet project or other.
Abel had always played with the black pieces, and Cain always the white. At times Abel won, others Cain, but most often, they played to a draw, knowing each other's mind and style too well for anything else.
But what of now? Now, when they barely know each other? Now, when one has mellowed and the other gone mad?
Their witness watches in silent awe as the brothers play, matching gambit for gambit, play for play, trading pieces and making little progress against each other. Until, suddenly, something changes. Abel seems to realize something, and, after making his move, he sits back in his seat, relaxing and drinking another sip of his tea, which has cooled off considerably by now. Cain blinks and glances up and frowns.
Three moves later, Abel has won.
"Checkmate."
Cain stares at the chessboard and then stares at Abel.
"You've forgotten how to change, Cain."
Abel rises, a bitter smile on his lips, and he pushes in his chair.
"Perhaps this is a portent for tomorrow."
Cain's eyes narrow, malice flashing briefly within them. Then they turn sad, and then they turn empty, and his smile widens as he closes them and shrugs.
"Perhaps. Or perhaps you are only giving yourself false hope."
Abel's eyes are sad as he shakes his head and turns.
"Farewell… brother."
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A/N: I wrote this about a year ago and never did anything with it. I don't know if it's quite in character or if it fits into the canon – either anime, manga or novel canon – anywhere, but whatever. I figure I may as well post it now and see what people think.
I'd be much obliged if you'd give me feedback. Thanks!
-- Snarky