A Marriage of State | By : Niko Category: +G to L > Kyou Kara Maou Views: 2727 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou or any rights to its story, characters or plot. I make no money from this. |
Prologue
Gwendal welcomed the new wrinkle on his brow, the deeper draw of his frown lines, the longer stretch of age across his face. Such sins against blood should have their mementos left in the flesh. While he would have preferred the sting of steel to the stain of ink, not all battles could be fought by strength and perseverance alone. Wars of diplomacy had scars and casualties the same as on any other battlefield. With his quill, by his hand, he'd consented to peaceful demands not uncommon but solid like rocks in his gut. And end to certain naval conflicts. A human alliance. Valuable territories from which to set up camps for handling the Big Cimarron threat. One less ally for King Lanzhil. A bloodless treaty agreed to by ink and paid for with so small a sacrifice it would have been selfish not to sign. In the name of Yuuri's peaceful vision where communication and mutual understanding made conflict a thing for council and not armies. Naive. Hopeful and inspiring and ignorant to politics, blind to compromise. Gwendal rubbed his brow, eyes closed to block out the passage of time. Yuuri would not agree and yet he neither could he refuse. A treaty nearly everyone would benefit from and no one would like. It was best the child king was on Earth for such proceedings. He would await justice upon his return.
Were the document still on his desk, Gwendal might have ripped it to shreds and pieced it back together many times over with the ebb and flow of guilt and duty. If he rose up from his chair, perhaps he could have seen the messenger leave with it, told their own guard to bring him back immediately, ask the man to forget anything he ever knew about the bargain. Teeth ground hard and jaw locked, he continued to sit with the sound of horses' hooves against the beaten soil echoing through the courtyard walls through his open window. There was more work to be done, more things to attend to in the Maou's absence. He reached his hand, steady only with the effort he put into its movement, and slid another piece of parchment to the space before him. Work would make him forget in moments of activity. He could leave regrets for sundown.
The large oak door creaked open to admit a man with closed fists and set jaw. The scar running through his brow tilted with the worry of his face, conflicted as it was resigned. He closed the door behind him, walking soundlessly to the desk, standing perfectly still.
Gwendal would not meet his face. "Do you wish to strike me, Conrart?"
"I don't know what I want to do. There had to have been another way, brother. A few more months-"
"-a few more months and a handful of sunk ships could have lead to an all out war or the fear of Big Cimarron may have ended all chances of entering into a peaceful arrangement. Shin Makoku gains much more than we lose."
"But Wolfram..."
"Is the only eligible member of the royal household! Do you think I did not try every alternative available?!" Gwendal stood, hands slammed heavy on the desk, sweaty palms sticking to the parchment. His glare was weak, fueled only by anger at himself and the situation. It wasn't enough to stand against Conrad's sad brown eyes. He fell back in his chair with a heavy thump, face in his hands.
The silence was louder than chariots on cobble stone.
Conrad stepped away from the desk, wandering to the window where there was not a cloud in the sky. The Kotsuhizoku flew past without a warning of omens. People were working below, life unaltered. "I request assignment to the task of escorting Wolfram there."
"Under the circumstances I can think of none better."
"You don't worry I may kidnap him?"
The eldest brother sighed. "If the Lion of Lütenburg is willing to risk entire armadas for one boy's sake then I will take his judgment to be sound and fair." Conrad's knuckles creaked as his fingers curled deeper into his fists. Gwendal likened it to the pain around his own heart. "And will you stay for the wedding?"
"Someone should."
Gwendal nodded thoughtfully, quill in hand to make official his charge.
"Then at least we will have both been given the task of giving him away," the half-mazoku said with bitterness.
Gwnedal's quil tip snapped, ink spilling out like blood from a wound on the final stroke of his youngest brother's name. Outside there was birdsong and happy cries of greeting. The world went on unencumbered.
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