Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

This is rated M for a good reason. Implied incest, sex, random violence etc. You have been warned.

Chapter 1

“Seth, you have not been entirely honest with me, have you?” Abel asked accusingly. “Who, or what, are the Flamevogels?” The black-haired Crusnik only shrugged. “Are you sure you want to know, Brother?”

Abel Nightroad groaned. A sharp wintry wind was blowing in. His breath hung mist-like in the air. That question about Ana’s background had been bothering him since he first met the girl. Always, there was a niggling doubt hovering in his mind about the Flamevogels. On the trail of Ana and her abductor, he arrived in Byzantium on a frosty morning. His sister had been tight-lipped initially when he confronted her in her garden. Still, she finally broke when he pressed her. She was right. He really didn’t want to know that.

Seth knew. Ivan and Ana have returned to their ancestral summer retreat in Minsk. His sister knew of it the moment they stepped on Empire soil and she kept her silence. Ion was obliged to call on his grandmother and no doubt he would spend the day away.

“I quietly granted Ivan a pardon. He will pick up his family’s work where his mother left off,” Seth looked out over the city. “He is an Imperial nobleman, a hereditary duke. I will have to confer a title on Anastasia… every noble gets one on awakening… How does the Countess of Crimea sound?”

“What research were the Flamevogels working on back then?”

“Many things, genetic modification of the bacilli to protect the blood cells, protection against UV rays…” Seth looked straight at him. “Is Anastasia and Ivan the end product of that research?” Abel asked. The Caspian wildcat in the child-like Empress’ arms yowled and leapt out as her arms tightened unconsciously about it. Hissing and spitting, it bounded up an evergreen shrub nearby. Seth kept her expression impassive.

“Maybe… the Flamevogels had no qualms on experimenting on their own offspring… Back in the colony, there were a pair of twins, Adam and Evelyn…” Seth sat down wearily on a bench. “It’s a long story.” She started relating the events that had occurred a thousand years ago…

“Adam suggested injecting Cain with the nanomachines?” Abel asked. Seth nodded. He had always wondered why Seth had taken the risk then with the untested nanomachines. The reason was a secret that like many others she had kept for what she thought would be an eternity. “There is more. I believe the earlier strains of bacilli enhanced any underlying capabilities the colonists may have had. Adam’s mother was from a long line of psychics and his sister displayed what can only be described as ESP. I know I have no proof but I believe the Flamevogels are somehow driven to the completion of the Swan Song…”

“The Swan Song?” Abel blinked.

“The eventual destruction of the nanomachines, and us,” the Empress looked at him. “The Flamevogels were working for Cain. They were working on a way of killing an activated Crusnik.” Abel choked. Cain had killed Lillith but she had not activated her Crusnik form then. Even to the end, she had…

“Cain ordered them to test it on me secretly. He wanted me dead but Adam… Adam couldn’t bring himself to do it… He fled with the technology and Cain killed him and the rest of the scientists… Cain let the spacecraft crash in the region now known as the Minsk Lake. Miraculously, there were survivors… a handful of the scientists’ children. Lillith helped them and the Terran inhabitants who were affected by the crash. The local Terrans there still refer to her as a saint.”

“I finally convinced the Flamevogels to join my court a hundred years later. And they continued their research into altering the bacilli until I had them stop. Too many failed experiments and deaths,” Seth explained. Independent investigations had revealed horribly maimed test subjects in the Flamevogels’ labs and numerous shallow graves. That was not counting the large furnace in the lab. The then Duke of Volga, Vladimir Flamevogel, had fled the Empire. She shrugged. “They never quite forgave me for that…” Suleyman had been romantically involved with Valdimir’s sister, Sasha Flamevogel, late Duchess of Muscovy. Seth would not be surprised if the duchess had put him up to treason.

“So is Ivan working on the bacilli again?” If Ivan and Ana were successes in the bacilli alteration project… Seth shook her head. “No. He is working on a way to kill Cain. I intend to finish the job. Sorry I did not inform you, brother… but I really thought it’s better if you did not know. According to some old documents we recently recovered, the process involves a certain frequency pulse have no idea how powerful the Swan Song pulse would be when activated. You, I, we may also be killed…”

“Cain killed me once.” And Lillith’s nanomachines resurrected him.

His sister nodded. “Except this time, there may not be any functional nanomachines when it is over. I may have signed all our death warrants in allowing Ivan to look into the Swan Song. Maybe it will be for the best.” There was more than a hint of tiredness in her voice. Not surprising considering she had single-handedly established and sustained the Empire for such a long time.

“Where is Ana? Is she well?”

“On that account, she is in good hands. However, she may not remember you. I’m not sure what happened, but Ivan assured me he will care for her like a father.” Like a father… Abel reflected how ironic it was, considering Ivan Flamevogel might have murdered both Ana’s parents in cold blood. “You trust him?”

“Not entirely. That’s why I have my own man there in Minsk. He’ll keep me updated. If you wish to go to Minsk, it can be arranged…” Seth demurred with a wry smile. The snowfall’s hellish up there. One noblewoman had good reason to brave a blizzard for the journey. Abel would be just another excuse for her dangerous journey.

In the dacha of the late Duke of Belarus, his murderer flipped idly through a book. “Isaak?” Dietrich murmured sleepily. His patient had survived the surgery, with only one loss. “Will I ever get my wires back?” he lowered a slim leg from the bed they now shared nightly.

Isaak closed the book with a sigh. He argued that this unforeseen development in their relationship was something the boy seemed not to mind. In fact, the sadomasochist brat almost seemed to welcome it despite his half-hearted protests.

Another leg touched the floor. “Isaak, maybe if you do me more often, I’ll get them back…”

“Do you really believe that? I’m tired. Isn’t thrice a night enough for you?” Isaak was not sure how Dietrich came by those uncanny strings in the first place. Dietrich was the only Marionettenspieler he knew of. Was this ability restricted to Terrans only? Did his altering the physiology of Dietrich’s body result in some irreversible loss?

“Isaaak…. You do enjoy it, don’t you?” Dietrich pouted and slid out completely from under the covers. Naked, he padded over the armchair, savouring the way Isaak let his eyes rove over his body. The change seemed stable enough although Dietrich had not demonstrated any active Methuselah traits.

“Dietrich, did anyone ever tell you what a whore you are?” Isaak smirked and pulled his now-lover into his lap. In all respect, there was hardly anything to amuse them in this snow-locked backwater. “Many times…” Dietrich replied before Isaak claimed his mouth with a passionate kiss.

60 years ago, Berlin.

Isaak Fernand von Kampfer cursed the Pilot soundly as he stepped into the St Giles Home for Boys. The place was better known as an illegal brothel catering to gentlemen with a taste for young boys. The slimy caretaker was more than eager to attend to him, recommending various pitiful waifs for the night. Isaak thought that if he did not back off, he would have to kill the miserable Terran. His thoughts must have shown in the glare he gave the man, for the weasel finally backed off enough for him to state the purpose of his visit.

“I am looking for my nephew. His name is Dietrich von Lohengrin,” Isaak lied. The man went pale. Isaak smirked. “If he is occupied, I’ll wait…” he looked meaningfully at a closed door from behind which muffled screams were heard. “Nephew? Impossible! All these guttersnipes have no family…” the caretaker fidgeted nervously. “You mean no known family… I’m the black sheep of the family. No one admits my existence…” Isaak sat down in a chair and lit a cigarillo. “But since I’m back…”

The caretaker decided that honesty was the best policy. “He’s with the Viscount upstairs. You may take him away after he’s done. Please I don’t want any more trouble…” The slime-bucket died gurgling on his blood as Isaak’s minions nonchalantly tore him apart. “Danke,” Isaak stepped into his shadows and slid up the stairs. Only one room on the second floor was occupied. Wrapped in his shadows, Isaak entered.

“Please. Sir, don’t hurt me…” The whimpering boy was a good deal younger than Isaak had expected. The viscount ignored his victim’s pleads and continued forcing himself on the child. The boy screamed into the pillows as he was raped. The scent of fresh young blood excited Isaak. Still, he stayed hidden in the shadows. “Your job, slut… is to take whatever I see fit to put into you,” the viscount taunted as he finally withdrew from the shivering body. “Including this.”

The boy’s eyes widened in horror as his client took out a pistol from the pocket of his coat pocket. “No…” the little boy scooted up against the headboard. “I don’t like guns…”

“Too bad. Be good now, you don’t want this going off, do you?” The man forcibly yanked the boy’s bare legs apart and shoved the barrel of the pistol against his bloodied opening. “NO!” the boy screamed and reached out his hand into the air as if pulling on something. His rapist was suddenly yanked against the far wall as if by invisible strings. The mask of the abused innocent slipped, revealing the devil within. “I said I don’t do guns.”

The viscount gibbered in fright as the hand holding the loaded pistol lifted of its own accord until the barrel pressed against his temple. The fingers squeezed the trigger. Brain matter and blood splattered onto the floor. “What do you know, it was loaded after all.”

“Dietrich von Lohengrin I presume?” Isaak stepped out of the shadows. The boy did not display any surprise, fear or shame as he got up shakily from the bed, exposing his bare body. “Who’s asking?”

“Isaak...” Dietrich purred against his ear as they basked in the afterglow of their coupling. “What are you thinking of?” He turned in their rumpled bed so that his body pressed along the older man’s.

“How we first met.” On hindsight, Dietrich had used sex to control others before he mastered his wires sufficiently. It was not surprising that he chose to use that on Isaak once he found his wires ineffective. The brat won even before Isaak first made love to him.

Author’s Notes:

The action’s shifting to Minsk.

Finally got round to writing an Isaak x Dietrich bit. Statistics have shown that more babies are born in autumn than in spring. A theory is that couples have nothing better to do than stay in bed during winter months. Some explanations have been offered for why birth rates spike nine months after an extended blackout. Freaky.