The King in His Castle | By : Crystalwren Category: +G to L > Kyou Kara Maou Views: 3864 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
The first
night he heard the music he thought that it was part of the festivities, the
thin thread of elegant piano weaving through the heavier, crasser drums of the
parade. He stood in the corridor outside his office, head tilted to hear it
better. For a moment he considered tracking it down, finding the makers, but
the king wasn’t supposed to take part in this festival and besides, he was
tired. In the end he went to the baths, and then to bed.
He did the
same on the second night, and the third, but on the fourth night the drums were
muffled and the piano was much clearer, and Yuri realised that the piano wasn’t
from the festivities but something much closer. Certain objects and technologies had crossed
between the worlds and a handful of musical instruments were amongst them. Piano
music was something that his mother played from time to time, but never this
sadly, or sweetly. With curiosity nagging, Yuri took a lamp and set out to
satisfy it.
There was a
deserted feel to the corridors, despite the soldiers posted at regular
intervals, and there was a faint smell of neglect in the air. Yuri raised his
lamp higher, dust motes dancing in the light. He followed his ears. Down the corridor, up a set of stairs. Down another corridor
to a series of parlours that were hardly ever used. The dust was thicker here,
and he sneezed. This corridor wasn’t lit at all and there weren’t any guards.
From where he was, he could see light streaming out through a half opened door.
The music came from there.
Inside, the
parlour was well-lit, candles and lamps blazing. Günter was there, his long
fingers dancing nimbly over the keyboard, his eyes closed, sweetly serene.
Conrad as well; he was sprawled on a lounge, leg tossed over an arm rest, his
hair and jacket dishevelled. Yuri was suddenly struck by the thought that he
was intruding on something deeply personal and he backed off, but Conrad raised
his head, Conrad had seen him and Conrad smiled and gestured for him to come
forward. So Yuri doused his lamp, came hesitantly forward and Conrad’s arm shot
out and wrapped around him, pulling him forward onto the lounge. A hard, wet
kiss was pressed to the side of Yuri’s neck and he was held close. He smelled
alcohol and realised that Conrad had been drinking. He didn’t try to move away.
They sat
quietly together for a long time. Günter played beautifully; he was just as
good as the CDs Jennifer had played when Yuri was little, when she’d thought he
was napping. There had been tears on her face when he’d gotten up early one day
and looked for her, and when he’d asked her, ‘Why are you crying, Mama?’ she had smiled, wiped her eyes and
wouldn’t reply. So when he looked sideways at Conrad’s face he expected to see
tears but there were none, because Conrad was asleep.
The music
stopped. Günter closed the lid over the keyboard and stood,
his cloak rustling. Without the piano Yuri could hear the festival drums again,
but only faintly. “I’m sorry to intrude,” he began softly, but Günter smiled,
shook his head.
“We are
always glad to see you,” he said softly. He walked over to the lounge and
looked at Conrad’s face. “Here,” he said, and gently moved the body of his
former student so Yuri could squirm free. Conrad didn’t wake up. “Perhaps it’s
time for Your Majesty to retire?” and Yuri knew that it was close to a rebuke
as he would get. He nodded and stood.
“Goodnight,
Günter.”
“Goodnight,
Your Majesty.”
At the door
he hesitated, looked back, watched as Günter knelt and pulled Conrad forward
over his shoulder. The older man stood, bearing the burden easily, and Yuri
knew that he’d carry Conrad to bed safely. He nodded in farewell and went to
his own bed, feeling a strange sense of loss that he couldn’t explain.
**
Breakfast
was cold dishes left on a sideboard so that people could serve themselves.
Conrad didn’t appear, and Günter seemed distracted as he rattled off Yuri’s
itinerary for the day. Yuri didn’t press; he collected a plate and took it with
him into the library, Günter accompanying him for morning tutorial. One good
thing about being a full time king nowadays was that he’d been in the Demon
Kingdom for long enough that he no longer needed hours and hours of being
taught things that others took for granted, but nevertheless, there were still
things remaining that he didn’t know.
“This
festival is known as the Week of the Dead,” said Günter, after clearing his
throat and finding the appropriate page in his book. “It happens every five
years. The lives of the newly dead are celebrated with parades and parties, and
the old dead are remembered with prayers to wish them luck and joy in their new
life. Old battles are discussed, fallen mates honoured. Women who have lost
their children early write letters and burn them so that the children may
receive them...”
Yuri wiped
crumbs from his mouth and went to stand at the window, looking down into the
gardens.
“Traditionally,
all but a skeleton staff are given leave for the week.
Also by tradition, the monarch and the nobles are supposed to remain in their
houses and not be seen by the common people for the duration of the
festival...”
The plants
were looking distinctly overgrown, the lawns were ragged. There was algae slicking across the fountain basin.
“Does Your
Majesty have any questions?”
He leant
his burning forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. In his mind was the
image of Günter’s fine boned hands on the piano’s keyboard and of Conrad
watching him play. Out loud he said, “No, none at
all,” which was a lie because he really wanted to ask about what he’d seen the
night before, but knew that he never would.
“Very good,
Your Majesty.”
Conrad
appeared by lunchtime, with bloodshot eyes and his familiar kind smile, and
they stood next to each other as they served themselves from the sideboard.
Günter had disappeared; Yuri knew that he often rode into the countryside
outside the city each day and Yuri wondered if he was finding it difficult not
being able to.
“Where’s
Günter gone to?”
“He’s
helping to exercise the horses in the corrals,” replied Conrad. “We’re shy on
stable hands at the moment.”
“Think I
should go help?”
“Best to
leave him to it,” and it was a measure of Yuri’s growing maturity that he didn’t
decide to sneak off to the corrals anyway.
So instead,
after lunch Conrad drilled Yuri on the finer points of stance in swordsmanship and
when he corrected Yuri’s grip on the hilt he had to slide his arms about the
young king’s waist. Yuri suddenly remembered Conrad’s hot mouth on his neck and
he shuddered and stood a little straighter.
Neither
Conrad nor Günter was there at dinner, that wretched sideboard again, but at
least some of the food was warm this time. He kept an ear on Anissina’s idle chatter, vigilant for key words like
‘experiment’ and ‘test subject’ but she seemed unusually subdued, as if she
didn’t feel like performing without her usual admiring audience of servant
women. He ate distractedly, scribbling notes on the margins of a parchment that
Gwendal had asked him to read and thought about
getting to bed early for once but when he finished his food and went to his
office to finish one last thing he heard the music again, the piano sliding its
way through the festival drumbeats and he felt like it was beckoning him
somehow. He lit a lamp and followed the music through corridors that seemed
like they had grown infinitely dustier and abandoned over the space of a single
day.
When he
came to the door Yuri hesitated at the threshold, again feeling like an
intruder, but at the same time knowing full well that there was nothing he could
do that either of them would not forgive. He was king in this castle, so once
again he doused his lamp, stepped forward and joined Conrad on the lounge.
Conrad had been drinking again. Although he’d reached his full height years
ago, Conrad had considerable size over him and always would, and he was gently
but firmly pushed down against the armrest so that Conrad could lay half on top
of him. It occurred to Yuri that the texture of Conrad’s hair was soft and
pleasant when the older man tucked his head under Yuri’s chin.
Günter had taken off his cloak and his usual
white surcoat had been replaced by one in a charcoal grey and he didn’t look
up, didn’t acknowledge Yuri when he came in and didn’t pout jealously or
complain when Conrad wrapped himself around their king. He looked sharper,
harder in the dark colours, and Yuri was reminded that the retired solider
could be very dangerous when he needed to. Instead of upsetting him- the king
hated to be reminded that many of the ones he cared about had once done
terrible things- this comforted him, made him feel protected and secure.
Yuri’s leg
was going numb, likewise his arm. He went to sleep anyway, and woke, briefly,
when strong hands slid under his body and lifted him. Smiling, he let those
strong hands carry him to bed.
**
“The
festival ends tomorrow.” Yuri’s head shot up. “The festival ends tomorrow,”
repeated Anissina in relieved tones as she prodded a
rubbery egg with her knife. “It’ll be good to have a proper breakfast again.” It
was on the tip of Yuri’s tongue to ask why, if it bothered her so much, she
didn’t give cooking a go herself but the image of a
‘Master-Egg-Beating-Bacon-Frying-Breakfast-Maker’ machine taking over the
kitchen welled up in his mind and he shuddered in dread. Grunting instead, he
applied himself to milk and muesli, thinking that it would be nice to see the
gardens in proper order as well.
Then he
realised that his little gatherings with Conrad and Günter would very likely
come to a halt and he felt such a sudden, wrenching sense of loss that he
forgot to breathe.
“Your
Majesty?” said Anissina politely, and he looked up to
see something very like compassion in her eyes. “Are you well?”
“I’m fine.”
“You know,
you should probably try talking to them.”
Yuri
pressed his lips, looked away. It sometimes annoyed him how fast gossip got
around the place, even without the usual small army of servants to help pass it
along. “I’m sure I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Lady Anissina,” he said.
“Suit yourself.”
Both Conrad
and Günter made themselves scarce that day. Fencing lessons were instead given
by Gwendal, who decided that it was time that Yuri
learned to handle different type of blade to the usual straight sword that
Demon Tribe nobles carried: a short, curved sabre,
generally used for swift attacks conducted on horseback and Gwendal
had him hack at straw practice dummies from atop a wooden horse. The wooden
horse was set on springs that moved in ways that were impossible to predict.
Certain that he’d looked perfectly ridiculous throughout the entire ordeal,
sore and tired from exercise he was unused to, Yuri finally called a halt before
Gwendal was ready. What followed was a silent battle
of wills as they tried to stare each other down until the older man finally
backed off, bowing silently in respect. Yuri stormed off towards the baths, hot
and sweaty and itching from the bits of straw that had drifted into the air to
land on his skin.
He saw them
before they saw him; they were walking together, their heads bent together, Günter’s
hair falling across his face. So close that their shoulders were touching. Yuri
once again felt the sensation of intruding but out of sorts as he was, this made
him angry instead of nervous. He was king, and this was his castle and by
definition he intruded nowhere because castle and fief belonged only to him.
Stalking forward, his feet struck the stones with rather more force than was
necessary. They looked up, Günter bowing gracefully and both of them smiling.
Angry for reasons he couldn’t explain, Yuri nodded once curtly and didn’t stop.
He remained
angry for the rest of the day. Thankfully, the both of them seemed to catch his
mood and stayed away, leaving him to Gwendal.
Strangely, there was a slight air of respect about the man, as if by winning
their little battle Yuri had also won his approval as well. This only served to
make Yuri angrier, because it seemed to him that if he hadn’t won Gwendal’s approval by now he couldn’t see how a silly brawl
over a pointy metal stick and spring-loaded wooden horse would make a
difference. So with uncharacteristic short temper he snapped and growled and
signed where he was asked with enough force to damage perfectly good quills.
With characteristic good sense Gwendal gathered his
papers and disappeared, leaving Yuri to watch the night fall over the garden
from his window. The drums started again in the dusk and he shuddered.
The
Week of the Dead.
Conrad was reminded, likely, of comrades fallen in battle, of Susanna Julia,
whom he’d loved and he drank to dull the pain. Günter played the piano, but
whether he played to comfort his companion or whether he mourned some old love
was anyone’s guess and Yuri knew that he’d never tell. And with this last day
of the festival Conrad would no longer drink and Günter would no longer play
and Yuri would not be embraced by one and would not be able to watch the other.
He grieved for that loss. After only two nights with them, he grieved.
On this
last night he lit his lamp and made his way up the dusty silent stairs, into
the dusty silent corridor to the dusty parlour where Günter made music with his
fingertips. Gnawing his bottom lip as he stood in the doorway, Yuri stared at
them both.
Günter
was...well, he was beautiful, of course, and graceful and talented and
intelligent. Conrad was handsome and graceful and talented and intelligent
because he took after his teacher. They were attractive in different ways; Günter
seemed positively unearthly at times, like at this very instant, as if he were
a fantastic illustration in a book of fairytales. Conrad was more approachable,
the everyday man in a movie, the one who usually gets the girl at the end.
Yuri doused
his lamp, and stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. Conrad,
strangely, did not smell like alcohol but he still put his arms around Yuri
when he sat down next to him.
It was hard
to get comfortable.
Without the
alcohol, Yuri knew that Conrad was fully aware and in control of his actions
and he wanted, very much, for the man he called Godfather to kiss him on the
neck the way he had on their first night together but doubted that Conrad would
ever do it sober.
The music
came to an abrupt halt. Günter shut the keyboard with an empathic gesture. The
charcoal grey of his surcoat gave him an unaccustomed appearance of mourning,
and as he stood, unsteadily, Yuri realised that this time Günter been the one
doing the drinking. He stumbled as he tried to move towards them and Conrad was
up and beside him like a shot. Conrad put his hands on the older man’s
shoulders and brought their foreheads together with a sigh. Beautiful violet
eyes closed and some unknowable grief curled Günter’s mouth.
They left
the parlour, Conrad supporting Günter, Yuri beside them, walking first on one
side and then on the other so that he could touch them both. Walking until they
reached a stretch of corridor that seemed better cared for, and Conrad shoved Günter
up against a wall and kissed him soundly while Yuri opened the door he knew led
to Günter’s private rooms.
Inside he
moved around, hunting lamps and candles that he lit from the glowing coals in
the hearth. A scuff announced the entry of Günter and Conrad, Günter putting up
some resistance to his former student but it was a resistance that was easily
ignored. Yuri shut the door behind them, locking it securely. There was a
lovely big four poster bed in one corner, not nearly as big as Yuri’s but still
very respectable and Conrad pushed Günter down onto it, his hands moving very
quickly to strip away both their clothes.
At this
point Yuri knew that he still had the option of leaving, of walking away. It
was obvious by Günter’s feeble protests that he was not accustomed to Conrad’s
advances and that this was their first time together. It would be possible for
them all to meet over breakfast tomorrow and pretend that none of this had ever
happened, and Yuri could see the future in his mind’s eye, of decades watching
the two together and always feeling apart from them. Yuri was lonely. If the
two that swore cared for him most began to love each other, then where would he
be after that?
It was
selfish, he knew that, but he stayed anyway, watched them as they twined
together on the bed, waited until they were mostly naked and Günter was
breathless and panicking. Conrad bit Günter’s shoulders mercilessly, and had
come prepared as well, and when he pushed an oil-slick finger inside Günter’s
body the older man cried out and reached for Yuri and he felt a great rush of
tenderness for his flamboyant teacher. Yuri pulled off his boots and went to
him. Günter pulled him down and kissed him, hard, and Yuri felt the older man
jolt, saw Conrad’s broad rough hands on his hips and then Günter whined, low in
his throat. Desperate kisses followed, Günter’s body rocking against Yuri’s in
time with Conrad’s thrusts. Long, sweet-smelling hair against Yuri’s face and
it was like being with a woman, Günter’s soft whimpers and Conrad’s rough
grunts and Günter’s skilful hands everywhere on Yuri’s body.
It was
nice, Yuri decided, as he stroked Günter’s hair. Nice being there with them,
nice feeling those hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses over his collarbones and
chest, Günter’s nimble fingers dancing everywhere like Yuri was the keyboard of
a piano. The young king was very conscious suddenly that both Günter and Conrad
were naked and his own garments were still on, albeit unfastened. Conrad’s
grunts became louder, closer together, and Günter closed his eyes, gritted his
teeth. Watching his face, Yuri supposed that it rather hurt and the both of
them were relieved when Conrad finally shuddered and collapsed against Günter,
who very gently laid back and put Conrad to rest on the mattress. A strange
expression crossed Günter’s face as Conrad left his body. He settled in between
his king and his former student, groping for Yuri’s hand and pressing a hard
kiss to the palm.
Yuri wanted
to get undressed but he was smart enough to lie silently, to wait until the other
two were ready. In the end it was Conrad who made the decision, Conrad who
stretched like a smug cat and sat up, reaching across Günter to kiss Yuri on
the mouth. Günter sat up, forcing them to break the kiss until he moved away to
give them more room. From the corner of his eye Yuri saw him watching them
eagerly; his reluctance, apparently, didn’t extend to that and Yuri put even
more passion into working his mouth and his tongue and finally Günter leant
forward to press a kiss of his own against Yuri’s neck.
That was
nice; plenty of suction, just the right amount of bite. Yuri let his head tilt
back for easy access. He was almost annoyed when Conrad interrupted, weaving
his hand through Günter’s hair, pulling him back. It was their attention Conrad
was after; as they watched he stretched flat over across the bed and propped up
his hips with a pillow, spreading his legs. He reached out, grabbed Günter’s
hair again and pulled the older man down on top of him none-too-gently. “You’re
not getting away from me that easily,” he hissed, and Yuri started, realising
that it was the first time any of them had spoken since they’d entered the
room. Günter didn’t seem to have much of a choice; Conrad took his teacher’s
hand, slicked it with oil and brought it between his legs, grinning when those
long fingers entered his body. Slowly, Günter began to move his hand of his own
accord and Conrad moaned and arched his back.
“Yes...oh,
yes, like that.”
Conrad’s
eyes meet Günter’s, and the older man took his fingers out of Conrad’s body.
Deliberately, he positioned himself between Conrad’s legs.
“Are you
sure about this?” he asked.
“I’ve never
been more certain about anything in my entire life.”
Yuri
watched. He watched as Günter entered Conrad, Günter’s cock swollen and eager,
biting his lip in a way that would have been adorable if it hadn’t been so
sexy. Yuri was almost relieved when Conrad reached for his hand because it had felt
as if the two had forgotten him, as though he weren’t even there. Günter lasted
for a long time and he was quiet about it as well. A great sigh was the only
sound he made as he came. It was nothing short of astonishing, really, given
that the problem usually lay with getting him to shut up.
“Günter,”
said Yuri, “Günter.”
Günter was
still, propped up over Conrad, his eyes closed. At the sound of Yuri’s voice he
opened his eyes, turned to gaze at his king and then turned away again. Silver
hair hid his face as he withdrew from Conrad’s body.
“Günter...I
want to...I haven’t... with a man...help me.”
“It’s all
right. I’ll help you.” Those clever hands on his body again; they slid under
his jacket and whisked away, and then the trousers as well, and Yuri grinned as
they lingered across his backside in a sly grope. “He’s ready for you,” and
Günter scooted aside so that Yuri could kneel between Conrad’s legs. A hand on
the small of his back, pushing him forward, another wrapped around his penis,
guiding it.
Hot. Hot,
tight and rough. Conrad moaned and Yuri froze, terrified that he was hurting
him. “Conrad?”
“Why did
you stop?” Conrad sounded dazed.
“Here,”
said Günter. Warm breath in Yuri’s ear and the older man wrapped his arms
around his king. “Move like this.” Pressure on his hip,
adjusting the angle. Conrad sighed and Yuri began to rock, Günter’s
whispered endearments and little kisses in his ear.
He didn’t
last long.
Günter’s
arms loosened, and disappeared. He lay down beside Conrad and stared up at the canopy.
He looked dazed.
Yuri pulled
out, sleepy and satisfied. He leaned forward embraced Conrad for a long time.
They kissed. “Think you’ll regret this tomorrow?” Conrad murmured.
“Never,”
said Yuri. “Will you?”
Conrad
grinned. His arms tightened around his young king, and he looked positively
smug. “Never.” Sleep was fast approaching. Yuri
settled down on the mattress, between the two that loved him most, reaching for
Günter‘s hand.
The last thing he saw was Conrad’s smile as he
propped himself up on his elbow to watch them, Yuri and Günter both.
Thank you to Shay and Nanashi-Reikon for their beta reading. Cross posted to LiveJournal and Destiny’s Gateway Romance Archives.
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