[fic] Toy (Trinity Blood, Ion Fortuna, Alpha #16)
Title: Toy
Author: moony810
Theme: Alpha # 16, mirror image
Pairing: Cain + Ion N/C, hints of AbelxIon and CainxAbel if you squint
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If I owned Trinity Blood, I wouldn't have to write fanfiction about it.
Summary: Ion meets Abel's twin, the Enemy of the World, Cain.
Contra Mundi was almost Abel's mirror image. Except for the hair- that was pale gold, where Abel's was steely silver. The Enemy of the World didn't look the part, and that unbalanced him. But then, he was Abel's twin, after all, and the man - or rather, both men- had a facial structure that lent itself well to looking harmless and unassuming.
Contra Mundi chuckled. “Well. You're quite a pretty little thing, aren't you? Abel's taste has certainly improved over the years.” Ion looked away from him and didn't say a word. When Contra Mundi spoke again, his tone was significantly colder. “No words, eh?” He gripped Ion's chin and wrenched his face around so that they were eye to eye, so hard that the boy cried out. Contra Mundi smiled like an angel. “Ah. His little lordship speaks.”
Ion glared at him and spat defiantly. Contra Mundi's expression darkened, and he hit Ion so hard that the boy would have fallen over if not for the wires holding him in place. The Puppetmaster's wires, from the fight that Contra Mundi had interrupted. Sick as the man was, at least he was human. Ion could deal with a deranged Terran. Contra Mundi was a Krusnik the same as Abel. And unlike Abel, he had no qualms about using his powers however he damn well pleased. Ion shuddered at that thought, anger giving way to cold fear. And now Contra Mundi was addressing him again, forcing his head up, forcing him to look into those calm, sky blue eyes.
“Now listen.” He spoke in the tone one would use when addressing a stubborn child. “I think I'm being more than fair here.” His tone turned so calm, so persuasive, that Ion almost found himself agreeing. “I could have easily killed you-” it sounded like he intended to say more, but Ion cut him off, the words bubbling up before he could stop himself, or think at all.
“I wish you would have!”
Contra Mundi laughed. It was a genuinely amused laugh, and warmer and gentler than Ion had ever imagined anything about the man could be. It was how he imagined Abel's laugh might sound, if he ever let go and let himself laugh genuinely. And that only made the fear clawing its way to the forefront of his mind stronger.
“Don't say that,” the man cautioned, his tone now one of gentle reproach, “you might just get your wish.” And now came that angelic smile again. That damned smile. “You see, I'm not sure how long I want to keep you alive. I wanted to see my brother keeps, but...”
“You've seen me now.” Ion said weakly, finishing that sentence. Or, he thought that was what Contra Mundi had been about to say. But the man was insane. There was no way to know what he thought or intended. And, Ion realized in a sudden wash of dread, that meant there was no telling what the man might or might not do with him. But he refused to face his fate cowering, and so made what he hoped was a determined face and spoke as strongly as he could. “So, now what?”
“I'm not quite satisfied with that.” Contra Mundi hummed, tilting Ion's head from side to side. Then he paused, holding Ion's head tipped in the way that exposed his neck the most. Then, before Ion could fully process it, he leaned down and sunk his teeth into Ion's neck. Ion cried out, certain that he was going to die here and now, probably just left out in the sun to burn, without ever having told Esther, really told her- he thrashed as much as he could manage. He didn't want to die yet!
And then, Contra Mundi drew back with a satisfied grin, licking the spilled blood from his lips. “Sweet. Very sweet. No wonder Abel keeps you around.” He pressed his lips against Ion's, and the boy thrashed as much as he could. Contra Mundi drew away, smiling gently. He looked so much like a picture of the Christ that Abel had once shown him, so much like Abel, that a shudder ran down his spine. “I think I may just keep you.” Contra Mundi traced his fingers oh-so-gently along Ion's jaw. “You're amusing.”
“I'd sooner die.” Ion spat.
“I think not.” Contra Mundi's smile was so gentle, so Abel-like that Ion would have thought he was Abel, if not for the difference in hair color, the slight difference in eye color. “I could use a new toy, now Dietrich's dead. And since it's your fault, it's only fair you replace him. Besides,” he purred, leaning down until Ion could feel hot breath on his neck, like he was telling a secret, as though there were anyone to overhear but Dietrich's cooling corpse, “it will be so much fun to see Abel's face when he comes here to get you back and finds you mine.”
“I'm not yours!” The shrill denial echoed in the large, open room, sounding much louder than it really was, and at the sound of it, Contra Mundi's expression darkened into a predatory grin that wouldn't have looked out of place on a demon from a story. Finally the outside matched the inside.
“Not yet. But you will be. I'm going to break you, Earl of Memphis. And then I'll put the pieces back together and make you a willing, obedient little toy. Now how do you think that will make Abel feel, hm?”