An Eye for an Eye, a Friend for a Friend
Title: An Eye for an Eye, a Friend for a Friend
Fandom: Tenkuu no Escaflowne
Characters: Dilandau Albatou, Folken Strategoes
Word Count: 463
Rating: PG
Summary: Dilandau took something from Folken, but not before losing something himself.
Author's Notes: Takes place mid-series, so moderate spoilers. My first fanfic100 fic for Dilandau! Written for prompt 080. Why?
It was dark in Dilandau’s throne room. The heavy curtains behind his chair were shut, and only the faintest glowing lines of dusky light made it through around the edges. It was silent too-aside from the occasional pouring of vino, or a loud sniff which echoed off the walls.
The door slid open, and Folken’s high-shouldered silhouette appeared. Dilandau squinted against the relatively bright light, but his head tilted to one side in a nonchalant fashion.
Folken spoke without moving at first, the light continuing to shine in around him. “Zongi did report back to you safely, didn’t he?”
Dilandau took his opportunity to refill his glass. “I hope,” he said, “You’re not calling me a liar, Strategoes.”
A few short steps and a shoonk sound, and Folken was in the room with the door shut behind him. “I should report you to Adelphos for this.”
“For what?” Dilandau looked up, and the question, which had been asked in an almost playful fashion, was followed by a cold, sneering statement: “Migel is dead. Consider that before you accuse me of misconduct.”
“What you did was murder.”
Even though Dilandau had only taken a sip in the last moment, he moved to refill his glass again. A chuckle escaped from between his teeth. “You know, I’ve heard about you, Strategoes. Collecting all your poor little wounded pets out of pity.” The bottle of vino thunked down onto the side table. “You’re weak.” He rested his hands on the armrests of the throne. “And you want to accuse me of murder? Was Zongi a soldier?” He quirked his head once again as if awaiting an answer, and when none was forthcoming he continued. “A citizen of Zaibach? An ambassador of some kind? Did he have any rights at all under our laws?” His voice was rising in volume and vitriol, and as it did he sat farther forward in his throne. “Or if he did, did he not give them up the moment he took the life of a soldier, a citizen, and one of my men? Answer that, traitor.” He pushed hard off the armrests, propelling his body backwards, and then picked up the glass again.
The echoes of Dilandau’s voice had long since faded the next time Folken spoke. “I’ll come back when you’re sober.” With a slow sweep of his cape, he was headed for the door.
Dilandau leaned his head back over the top of the throne-the silk that draped over it was soft but thin, and the hard material of the chair bit at the back of his neck. “He was nothing but a stinking doppleganger.” There was pressure behind his eyes, at the base of his throat-he pinched the bridge of his nose to keep the sob from escaping.
Fandom: Tenkuu no Escaflowne
Characters: Dilandau Albatou, Folken Strategoes
Word Count: 463
Rating: PG
Summary: Dilandau took something from Folken, but not before losing something himself.
Author's Notes: Takes place mid-series, so moderate spoilers. My first fanfic100 fic for Dilandau! Written for prompt 080. Why?
It was dark in Dilandau’s throne room. The heavy curtains behind his chair were shut, and only the faintest glowing lines of dusky light made it through around the edges. It was silent too-aside from the occasional pouring of vino, or a loud sniff which echoed off the walls.
The door slid open, and Folken’s high-shouldered silhouette appeared. Dilandau squinted against the relatively bright light, but his head tilted to one side in a nonchalant fashion.
Folken spoke without moving at first, the light continuing to shine in around him. “Zongi did report back to you safely, didn’t he?”
Dilandau took his opportunity to refill his glass. “I hope,” he said, “You’re not calling me a liar, Strategoes.”
A few short steps and a shoonk sound, and Folken was in the room with the door shut behind him. “I should report you to Adelphos for this.”
“For what?” Dilandau looked up, and the question, which had been asked in an almost playful fashion, was followed by a cold, sneering statement: “Migel is dead. Consider that before you accuse me of misconduct.”
“What you did was murder.”
Even though Dilandau had only taken a sip in the last moment, he moved to refill his glass again. A chuckle escaped from between his teeth. “You know, I’ve heard about you, Strategoes. Collecting all your poor little wounded pets out of pity.” The bottle of vino thunked down onto the side table. “You’re weak.” He rested his hands on the armrests of the throne. “And you want to accuse me of murder? Was Zongi a soldier?” He quirked his head once again as if awaiting an answer, and when none was forthcoming he continued. “A citizen of Zaibach? An ambassador of some kind? Did he have any rights at all under our laws?” His voice was rising in volume and vitriol, and as it did he sat farther forward in his throne. “Or if he did, did he not give them up the moment he took the life of a soldier, a citizen, and one of my men? Answer that, traitor.” He pushed hard off the armrests, propelling his body backwards, and then picked up the glass again.
The echoes of Dilandau’s voice had long since faded the next time Folken spoke. “I’ll come back when you’re sober.” With a slow sweep of his cape, he was headed for the door.
Dilandau leaned his head back over the top of the throne-the silk that draped over it was soft but thin, and the hard material of the chair bit at the back of his neck. “He was nothing but a stinking doppleganger.” There was pressure behind his eyes, at the base of his throat-he pinched the bridge of his nose to keep the sob from escaping.