Title: Enemy
Fandom: Trinity Blood
Pairings: Implied Isaak x Dietrich
Summary: Master and apprentice have a chat.
The room was dark, illuminated only by the dancing flames. His eyes, seemingly lifeless, reflected the seemingly limitless life the fire possessed. Paradox, he thought. He was the one with so much life, and yet the fire seemed...
No.
With a shake of his head, Isaak banished those thoughts. Behind him, the door creaked quietly, and he sensed a familiar presence enter the room. Dietrich. Shifting slightly, he caught sight of the reflection in the glass, watching as the puppetmaster gently closed the door and made his way over. There was something in his step which suggested he was still recovering from the hypothermia and the wounds from the all too sudden fight which had culminated with both Hexe and Basilisk dead.
"...I do praise you for cracking the code but considering your level - this is too mediocre for you. However, your stealth ability is still severely inadequate to someone such as you."
His words were slow, deliberate. A dull clink as he set the wine glass down on the table, lifting another and pouring a measure of wine for his guest. Dietrich's lips curled into a smirk. He quietly seated himself on the comfortable red velvet chair opposite his mentor, accepting the wine glass from pale, ungloved hands. Isaak was almost relieved to feel the warmth from the puppetmaster's hands.
"I wasn't attempting any stealth. I merely wished to not startle you."
Dietrich lifted the delicate glass to his lips, taking a small, gentle sip before setting the glass down.
His gaze drifted over to Isaak, who seemed to be staring quietly at the fire. For a moment, Dietrich contemplated remaining silent, letting the magician contemplate his thoughts in silence. But his curiosity got the better of him, and he spoke.
"A penny for your thoughts, Isaak?"
The black-haired magician looked up, ebony eyes meeting amber ones.
"Contemplating, considering... plotting." His voice was soft, and although his eyes seemed to be focussed on Dietrich, it was clear his thoughts and mind were elsewhere. Pale, slender fingers tapped thoughtfully against the chair. Dietrich's eyes narrowed, rising to his feet and padding over, sitting on the armrest.
"What of?"
Isaak's pale, ungloved hand came to rest on Dietrich's thigh.
"You." Within seconds, placid contemplation seemed to dissolve into limitless, but contained, anger. "I want to know what you were playing at. Your stupid prank nearly cost us our lives."
Dietrich, leaning slightly against Isaak's shoulder, fingers tangling in his hair almost affectionately. "I was unaware that Balthazar had planned to murder you."
Isaak ignored him, having lit a cigar and was now taking deep, almost calming drags on it. His eyes still fixated on the fire. "Have you ever heard this phrase, Dietrich? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. In this case, the entire Orden is my enemy. Don't give me that nonsense about not being aware, you of all people should have seen this coming. You of all people should have read his intentions from his actions."
"But I failed to. It's over. They're dead. Forget it. Besides, if the entire Orden is your enemy, would I be your enemy too?" Dietrich's fingers came to rest on the back of Isaak's neck, shifting away from his perch on the armrest, straddling Isaak's hips instead.
"Fool," Isaak snarled. But still, his fingers curled in Dietrich's hair, and Isaak pulled him down, crushing his lips against the puppetmaster's. As he pulled away, he hissed into the puppetmaster's ear, fingers digging into the younger man's scalp. "If you were my enemy, Dietrich von Lohengrin, I wouldn't even have allowed you such close proximity. If you were my enemy, puppetmaster, it would be your dead corpse lying here. So be thankful."
Dietrich merely raised an eyebrow.
"Don't you ever dare pull such a stupid stunt as that ever, again."
Dietrich barely managed to nod, before the magician kissed him again, this time, pushing him onto the ground and pinning him there. Out of a corner of his eye, he saw, the wine glass falling, liquid spilling...
... and shattering on the floor.