Drage Herrogard

"If that is what you want to believe, than so be it. For all you know, Morgase did not mysteriously go missing." Sammael raised and lowered his eyebrow at Tristan, finding much pleasure in his cousin's discomfort. He was quite glad that he was an accomplished occlumens, so that Tristan would not discover that he was correct in his thinking.
 
Tristan could see through Sammael's composure, for he had grown up with his cousin.

"Oh yes, I'll believe it and I know it. You never were satisfied with having no control over things. And that's not exactly the case anymore with your family, now is it?"

He smirked as he attempted to get under Sammael's skin. He was raring for a fight, having waited to get his aggressions out anyway.
 
"Why look, Tristan is a know-it-all now. I have more control than you ever will." Sammael grinned at Tristan, knowing that he had been trying to upset him but refusing to let him. Agitating Tristan was one of Sammael's favorite pastimes.
 
"Sure, Sammael," Tristan sneered. "You wouldn't be saying those things if you knew what I knew." He grinned; he had just learned something recently that Sammael would kill over.
 
"Tristan, you are all talk. You know nothing. Your silly games have not worked in years." Sammael knew there was a slight possibility that Tristan did in fact know something, but he was not afraid of Tristan and what he may or may nor know.<i></i>
 
Tristan laughed. "Whatever you say." Tipping back the bottle, he became quiet. He had a feeling that this confrontation with Sammael was coming to an end.
 
"Well, you girls have fun," Brunhilde said snidely, leaving her drained glass on the side table. "This is getting quite boring. Act like men instead of boys." With a sigh she left the room, shaking her head in disgust. Men.
 
"Are you two done being immature?" Valcan laughed, sipping at his vodka. "Although this," he tapped the bottle with a clink, "Will bring out the best in men."
 
"I guess," Tristan laughed boisterously. "Well, since you men love each other so much, I'm going to retreat to somewhere else."

Somewhat tipsy, he made his way to his room with ease, as he had lived in it the majority of his life. He slammed the door behind him, annoyed. He didn't want to be back here, but he had nowhere else to go.

He sat down on his bed, still cradling his body of vodka in his arms. He took a sip, and then remembered something. He moved to his closet, and pulled out an old, decrepit cd player. But he could still make it work, without electricity. He had bought it years ago, which had irritated his father immensely. He was going to do so again.

Digging behind pairs of boyhood clothes, he pulled out a stack of cds. He did not have much of a collection, but they were good cds nonetheless.

Pointing his wand at the cd player, he uttered a spell to give it temporary power, popping in a Danzig cd. He turned the volume to the highest level he could, and laid back down on the bed as he listened to Mother. He wondered how long it would be before someone started screaming at him. He smiled as he sipped at the vodka; It's good to be home.
 
Valcan rolled his eyes at Tristan's last statement, looking to Sammael. "I'm glad that someone in the family has sense."


His gaze darkened as he heard the raucous rock and roll, and he rose from his chair. The detested music echoed throughout the halls of Drage Herrogard, relentless and pounding in his ears. "He just has to test my limits, doesn't he?" Valcan snapped. "I can't believe he actually enjoys that crap. Den idiot sønnen av min. " He turned to the door. "Would you like to join me, Sammael? I think he's positively smashed. We could have some fun with this."
 
Laughing for no particular reason, Tristan made a change in cds, finding a burned one. He flipped through the songs until he found Metallica's I Disappear, a song made for a feature film, although he wasn't sure which one.

He laughed boisterously as he locked the door with magic. He didn't particularly care what anyone thought.
 
Lief shook his head as he stood. His brother was only asking for trouble, but then again, he did that a lot when he was intoxicated. Sighing, he retreated to his own room, having enough eventfulness for the night.
 
Tristan flipped the song once more, and he remembered this one as Where Dragons Rule by Dragonforce, a band that he had seen in concert years ago with Lorelei. He sat there somberly; this was always the downside to drinking alcohol. At first the vodka made him happy, but then it brought him to be depressed as hell.

He glared at the door as it was reverberated with booming knocks, and ignored it. He didn't care if he got in a fight. He started as one of the House elves apparated by his bed.

"Master Tristan," the house elf said, quivering in fear, "Master Valcan says to open the door or he's going to blow it off it's hinges."

"Oh, he's no fun," Tristan said, irritated, and opened the door with Alohomora.
 
Sammael gave a bit of a chuckle as he heard the music from Tristan's music. "He always was an idiot," he said without thinking, the vodka starting to get the best of him. Standing, Sammael looked to Valcan, seriously considering messing with Tristan. "As much as I would enjoy it, I believe bed is where I should be heading."
 
Valcan laughed. "Alright, then."

He rose from his chair and walked quickly to Tristan's room, hearing the whiny music. After a moment he pushed open the door, and his ears pounded with the insane guitar solos. He hated every moment of it.

He reached down, flicking the power button.

"Turn it on again, and I'm going to blow it to pieces," he snapped.
 
"Yah, right," Tristan snorted. He tipped back the bottle, glaring angrily at his father. "I'm not a child anymore."
 
"As long as you are staying in my house, you will respect my wishes," Valcan retorted, looking back to the cd player. "Your dirty blood wife gave that to you, didn't she? Muggles are so useless."

He grinned as his son's expression darkened; he was making him angry on purpose.
 
Normally Tristan wouldn't have reacted, as he was used to snide remarks about his muggle wife. But the alcohol intensified his emotions, and he yelled, "Don't talk about her like that!" His head was positively spinning, his hands balled up into fists.
 
"Don't make yourself even more of a disappointment by having the audacity to believe that you could strike me. I will not suffer insolence," Valcan replied curtly, his eyes flaring in anger.
 
Tristan's anger swelled so much that he was unable to contain it anymore; with a roar of fury, everything combustible shattered around him, including the bottle of vodka, the remaining alcohol running over his hands, attacking his nostrils with the strong scent.
 
Valcan was not even touched by the exploding power, grinning broadly. He turned to leave the room. "Your lack of control is astounding. Enjoy your stay." Kicking the cd player, he walked swiftly out of the room, leaving his intoxicated son behind.

He left to go to bed, not touching the rest of his vodka. Unlike everyone else, he was in a particularly happy mood.
 
"Not twelve," Tristan breathed in a slur, his eyes wild as he attempted to wipe the alcohol from his hands. As his father left, he leaned back on the bed, brushing off shards of a side lamp that had once adorned his nightstand. With clothes on and all, he fell into an uneasy slumber, too lazy to repair anything until the next morning.
 
Weeks after he had arrived at Drage Herrogard, Tristan had retreated to the giant library, grabbing some books from the shelves that towered to the twenty foot ceiling and going into a back corner.

He jumped in surprise as a letter dropped in his lap, and he opened it quickly, not sure who it was from. He had seen the owl, a blur that had flown out the window as quickly as it had come in.

He ripped open the letter, and his expression darkened as he read it.
Tristan,
I apologize for my sudden absence, but I felt the need to get away.  Things were getting so complicated and unbearable for me, and I was afraid of what would happen if I stayed any longer.  My feelings for you had finally gotten to me, and I could no longer bear to watch Lissandra coddle you and brag about her pregnancy.  I needed to distance myself from her, and more importantly from you.  I hope you understand.  Please do not tell Sammael where I am, or about this letter at all.  The last thing I need at this moment is to deal with him.  I am doing some important work over here, and I refuse to let him sabotage that.  I wish I could say when I will return, but at this point I am not sure if I ever will.

With love,
Morgase
Click to expand...

Of course I understand, he thought. Things were way too dangerous, and Morgase should be recognizing that. Not to mention that Sammael would be after his head.

Shaking his head, he folded the letter and put it deep in his pocket. Yes, he had feelings for Morgase, but he wasn't going to risk anymore for the time being; he already had a son on the way.
 
Whistling, Sammael entered the library just in time to see Tristan stuffing the letter into his pocket. "Well, well cousin, what do we have here? A letter perhaps??" He wanted so much to infuriate Tristan, but decided that maybe that was not the best idea. Walking up to his cousin, Sammael looked at him with an expectant expression, waiting to hear about the piece of parchment in Tristan's pocket.
 
"It's nothing," Tristan lied without effort. "Simply a letter from Lissandra. She's doing well with being pregnant. Six months now. Same old boring stuff."

If Sammael had seen that letter, he was sure that a fight would ensue. And it would not be pretty.
 
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