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Bloom	By : chayron Category: +G to L > Kyou Kara Maou Views: 9093 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

Chapter List
- 1-Bloom
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15
- 16-Part 16
- 17-Part 17
- 18-Part 18
- 19-Part 19
- 20-Part 20
- 21-Part 21
- 22-Part 22
- 23-Part 23
- 24-Part 24
- 25-Part 25
- 26-Part 26
- 27-Part 27
- 28-Part 28
- 29-Part 29
- 30-Part 30
- 31-Part 31
- 32-Part 32
- 33-Part 33
- 34-Part 34
- 35-Part 35
- 36-Part 36
- 37-Part 37
- 38-Part 38
- 39-Part 39
- 40-Part 40
- 41-Part 41
- 42-Part 42
- 43-Part 43
- 44-Part 44
- 45-Part 45
- 46-Part 46
- 47-Part 47
- 48-Part 48
- 49-Part 49
- 50-Part 50
- 51-Part 51
- 52-Part 52
- 53-Part 53
- 54-Part 54
- 55-Part 55
- 56-Part 56
- 57-Part 57
- 58-Part 58
- 59-Part 59
- 60-Part 60
- 61-Part 61
- 62-Part 62
- 63-Part 63
- 64-Part 64
- 65-Part 65
- 9
- 10
- 11
Disclaimer: I don’t own Kyou Kara Maou! – It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I’m not making any money from writing it.
Warnings: yaoi (male x male), violence, swearing, angst, drama. Wolfram-centric, out of character, original character.
Summary: With Yuuri’s upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them? Should eventually be Yuuri x Wolfram.
A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 20. Eldara – 31. Halea – 20. Athara – 18.
A/N 2: Greta doesn’t exist.
A/N 3: European/American/Japanese standards all at once depending on the plot requirements.
A/N 4: A tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.
A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram’s uncle exists.
A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter’s name is a bother.
Bloom
by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com), beta-read by HARPG0
Part 10
The sentimental melody which was coiling and spreading from under the harpist’s fingers was lulling Wolfram to sleep. He kept reminding himself that he couldn’t do that as Halea had specially invited the musician to entertain him. Wolfram turned and smiled at Halea, trying to adapt the expression of utter bliss on his face. Judging by how she looked at him, he had a feeling he wasn’t very successful. Never before had he needed to act so much, and, unfortunately, every little lie he tried to tell with his face was easily seen through.
Halea, though, didn’t seem to mind his little faux pas and turned away, slowly sinking back into the music’s romantic embrace. The harpist’s nimble fingers were filling Wolfram’s vision when he began to wonder if his spending so much time with Halea was appropriate. The blond’s eyes left the harp to measure the properness of the distance between him and the young woman on the lavish sofa: about fifty centimeters. Certainly, he didn’t ever give any reason to anyone to think he was after something because, in fact, he really wasn’t. However, one had to be careful about creating wrong impressions and starting rumors.
When Athara entered the music room in search of his sister, he was greeted by the sight of von Bielefeld and Halea sprawled over the sofa, both put out of their misery by the chords of the syrupy melody, which was endlessly filling the room. Von Bielefeld was drooling on his sister’s dress. It was one of her favorites, the one she would wear when she wanted to impress men; she believed it accentuated the color of her eyes and hair.
Athara motioned for the harpist to stop playing; the musician probably simply enjoyed the opportunity to play and didn’t want to stop even after his audience had been lulled to sleep. The sounds stilled, the room falling completely silent. The youngest von Ashira concentrated back on the sleeping couple. The sight would have been comical if it had not been so disturbing. He didn’t like von Bielefeld at all and he couldn’t exactly tell why, which was disturbing enough in itself. He didn’t know much about Wolfram except for those things he had told Eldara about the blond at the academy. So far, during his stay in the castle, von Bielefeld had left a quite unstable impression of himself, making it hard for anyone to make any conclusions about his character. Halea, in spite of anything, seemed to be smitten with him. If Eldara’s plan succeeded, soon von Bielefeld would become their brother-in-law. The prospect of that made Athara’s hands itch with the need to hit something.
The sea was stormy, and the weather forecast for the next few days was the same, thus the blond’s suite would have to stay at the port waiting for better weather to sail. Athara wished for them to come faster and take von Bielefeld away. It wasn’t going to be so easy, though: the doctor said something about not moving the blond for the next three weeks, and there was that unclear matter of His Royal Will. Wolfram was an emissary now. Without a doubt, it was just a means of giving von Bielefeld the immunity, but didn’t it also mean he was going to stay here longer?
He should have just died in the sea.
---
Wolfram woke up from his dream with a start. He had dreamt he was still on the pirate ship, the money for his ransom had never come, and he was standing on the end of a wooden plank. In the next moment, he was thrown over the board with his hands and legs tied.
Wiping the drool off his mouth, the blond wondered vaguely why they bothered to tie him up. As far as he had been able to tell, there was the sea, the sea, and the sea everywhere. There was not a chance he would be able to reach a shore. The blond looked at Halea’s blue dress, particularly her wet shoulder. Feeling a little seasick, he wondered what he should do about the wet spot. Drying it with a napkin would be a little… He should just leave while she was asleep. Gods knew what Halea would think of him sleeping with his head on her shoulder. Something of the romantic sort, clearly. Women always did.
Yawning and trying to be as silent as it was possible, Wolfram reached the door. As soon as he opened it, he met face to face with the duke. The man retracted his hand from the doorknob and moved aside politely, letting the blond pass.
“I was just looking for you,” he said. “I was thinking about going for a ride in the park. Care to join m-?”
“Certainly!” Wolfram shot before Eldara could even finish. “Now? Great! I’ll need a warm jacket, though. And boots,” he added. “And gloves.”
The duke gave an amused look to Wolfram’s back. He was already hurrying down the corridor burning with excitement. Eldara slightly pushed the door to the music room open to see his sister sleeping on the sofa blissfully oblivious to her surroundings. Grinning, he closed the door softly.
Athara was away but the duke didn’t think his brother would mind von Bielefeld borrowing some of his clothes. Thus, in fifteen minutes, the blond was set to go outside. During his more than a week’s stay in Raizgad, it was the first time Wolfram had been outside of the castle. The weather was cold and a little windy, but it wasn’t drizzling and the blond was simply happy to be in fresh air.
Climbing downstairs to where the horses stood ready, the duke wished his brother would ever be at least half-as-excited as Wolfram was now when he invited his brother for a ride. Athara didn’t like riding and abhorred horses in general.
“Just take it slow,” Eldara warned, when he saw Wolfram swing himself into the saddle easily. “I am certain that riding is not a very good idea for a man who has just suffered a concussion.”
“Why, in the world, did you invite me, then?” Then Wolfram gasped as if he had just had a revelation. “Could it be you plan to get rid of me this way?” he asked with a grin, exuding his good mood right through his face, jacket, and boots. He rubbed his hands together, ready to grasp the reins out of the servant’s hold and urge the horse forward.
Eldara chuckled. “No. I would have come up with a better plan. You simply seemed like you were close to starting to climb walls from boredom. Just don’t gallop. Foot’s pace is enough for you.”
Wolfram looked a little disappointed, but he couldn’t agree more. He watched the duke climb onto his horse and take the reins from the servant holding them. He wondered if Eldara was a good rider. If he were well, he would just race the duke to test him out. Now, however, he could only follow the duke’s horse, which started trotting towards the road leading through the gate into the park.
It had been a frosty morning, the ground hard and glittery. It was unfrozen now but there was no slush. Wolfram’s horse had to trudge along the road leading through the park while the duke galloped through the trees. Longingly, Wolfram watched this. Eldara was a good rider, not one of the best, but good. The duke’s horse was happy with the exercise it was getting, the man hardly needing to urge it forward. It was almost certainly showing off. Wolfram lowered his head to look at the horse underneath him. It was half-asleep, probably wondering what kind of an oaf it was carrying.
The duke galloped around the park one more time then sidled up to Wolfram, who was forlornly following the road through the park. Eldara accepted the blond’s glare as deserved.
“We’ll race once you’re better,” he promised, still a little breathless.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Wolfram said, still sulking. “Then you will be the one staring at my horse’s tail.”
Eldara laughed softly. “Are you a good rider?” he asked. He pulled his gloves off to grasp the band which had started to slide out of his hair.
Wolfram nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“To tell you the truth, you didn’t strike me as someone who would like outdoor activities,” the duke admitted, pulling the band off his hair and then retying it.
“Oh. Why?”
Eldara grinned but the look in his eyes sharpened. He started putting his gloves back on. “Well, now this one here is a compromising question.”
“But really. Why?”
“You… At first glance you look like a pampered kid.”
“And you are an ass!”
Eldara gave him a sharp smile. “Well, now that we’ve got this out of our system, let me ask you another question. Are you any good at swordsmanship?”
The blond stared at the bush with bare twigs at the edge of the road they were passing by at a snail’s pace. “I am probably better than some,” he said modestly. He wondered if anyone could ever get the duke out of their system. It was probably possible only by slaughtering him. And, by gods, the man had just called him a pampered kid, he had called the duke an ass, and the man could still keep the conversation going like it was nothing. This suddenly made Wolfram think the duke was right; now, he did feel like an uncouth kid.
“What about you?” Wolfram asked in a few minutes, interested.
“I am probably worse than some,” the duke answered just as imprecisely as Wolfram.
The blond looked at his right hand which was puffed with a bandage under the glove. It was getting better fast but was still not good enough.
“We can have a spar once you’re better,” the duke suggested.
“We seem to be going to do a lot of things once I am better,” Wolfram commented, trying to bend his fingers and wincing in pain.
“Don’t overdo it. I’m just trying to find more ways to keep you here longer.”
“To keep me here for what?”
A small smirk appeared on the duke’s face first then he laughed. “To carry out His Royal Will, of course.”
“Right. I forgot that bit about ‘His Will’,” Wolfram muttered. Both of them knew it was only temporary, just an empty title to inflate Wolfram’s importance even more, to give him immunity. Wolfram knew that Eldara found it entertaining, and he couldn’t blame the man.
When the blond sighed, the duke gave him a sideways look. He wondered about von Bielefeld and his ex-fiancé’s relationship. The engagement had lasted for five years and, then, it was abruptly terminated, the blond leaving the capital. He could read a lot into the circumstances, but it wasn’t clear what had precisely happened. Then, in the baths, Wolfram had been bitter when he talked about the annulment of the engagement. It must have been his king’s decision to end it between them.
“Maybe Gwendal von Voltaire or His Majesty Yuuri Shibuya would visit you here?” the duke asked suddenly overtaken by curiosity about Shibuya and von Bielefeld’s relationship.
“They would be idiots if they did.”
“True,” Eldara agreed. However, he couldn’t help noticing that despite his confident answer, the blond didn’t look so assured. “You don’t seem to be so certain…” he drawled.
Wolfram shot him an uneasy look. The duke didn’t know what an idiot Yuuri could be. Wolfram knew, though. The king could decide that traveling incognito to Kardera was the best idea ever. And, then, if caught in a bout of extreme stupidity, Yuuri could also decide he was going to intermingle amongst the suite. Maybe he would even come up with a heroic but unneeded rescue plan. Wolfram hoped that if this happened, either Gwendal or Conrart would be able to talk the king out of it. Nevertheless, sometimes Yuuri was unbendable. You just couldn’t convince him otherwise.
“His Majesty can be unpredictable,” Wolfram summarized his thoughts finally.
“Well, yes,” the duke said with a nod, “I’ve heard various things.”
“What things for example?”
“Most of them are about his unrivaled power.”
“Ah, yes.” Wolfram chuckled lightly. He knew what exactly Eldara had had in mind but had tactfully chosen to avoid pronouncing. Yuuri, indeed, had power; his wisdom, however, was another matter. “Very young, optimistic, and idealistic,” he said to Eldara.
“That does somehow work out, though,” the duke said, smiling.
“Yes,” Wolfram agreed. “It never ceases to surprise me.”
“Well, it is said that Lady Luck loves optimistic people.”
“Is it?”
For a moment, they rode next to each other silently, and Wolfram suddenly felt that he hadn’t been relaxed like this in a while. It was clearly a dangerous and misleading feeling, as the duke was far from someone he could allow himself to lose his sharpness around. But there was something unwinding in the way Eldara could understand him from half a sentence.
“Is there any news about my signet ring?” Wolfram asked after a long pause.
“No, I’m afraid there isn’t any. One of the pirates admitted to having stolen the ring, but he had either sold or lost it as it wasn’t found on him.”
“Sold or lost?” Wolfram asked, uncertain.
“Well, he said he’d probably lost it while swimming towards the shore. I don’t think he was lying, but who knows?”
“I see. So it’s decaying somewhere on the bottom of the sea. Nice.” Frowning, Wolfram patted the horse on its neck. He was cold already. While Eldara had been exercising and getting warm, he had been just trotting monotonously on the spot.
“Are all of them dead?” Wolfram asked.
“Yes.”
“Sharp Ronny?”
“All of them.”
“I’ll just have to order a new ring,” Wolfram concluded in a minute. He was starting to shiver, his feet getting frozen, but the horse was warming him up somewhat and he could already see the end of the road.
“Obviously.”
They had made a slow-paced circle around the park and now were at the same gate leading to the castle. The sky had darkened during their leisurely ride, and half of the gate was already closed; clearly not all servants had been informed about the duke’s presence in the park. Eldara stopped at the gate to let Wolfram pass first.
“If you would like, we can go down to the town next time,” the duke suggested when they were approaching the castle.
“Oh, I definitely want to have a tour around the town!” Wolfram agreed enthusiastically. If he already was in Raizgad, then it was only natural to make the most of his stay.
The servants were already waiting at the stairs for their master. Wolfram and Eldara climbed off their horses and started walking up the stairs. The duke noticed that the blond was shivering; he couldn’t discern in the half-light but even his lips seemed to be bluish. And, yet, he hadn’t complained during their ride.
Wolfram turned around when something baaed somewhere near him. It was the same white cat which had sprayed him on his way to the baths. Baaing, he ran up the stairs to the duke, who was about to open the door, then snuck through the gap once it was open. The large cat ran no farther, though, and when Wolfram and Eldara entered the lobby, he started rubbing around the duke’s feet.
“Missed me?” Eldara asked.
Wolfram, who was standing close to the duke, felt a strong whiff of sweat and horse when the man bent down to stroke the cat. It wasn’t unpleasant, rather familiar and comforting, but Wolfram would have never associated those smells with the duke. The blond took his gloves off, stuffed them into the pockets of his coat and rubbed his hands together to warm them up faster.
“Whose cat is it?” Wolfram asked.
“Mine, of course,” Eldara said, picking the purring animal up, still stroking. “All mine,” he chuckled, scratching the cat under his chin.
“Hmm… Well, you do seem like a cat person.”
“Do you prefer dogs?” Eldara asked, starting to walk down the corridor with the cat in his arms.
Wolfram followed him. “I think I prefer neither. I like horses.”
“Oh, do you? I like horses as well.”
“Yes, I noticed that. Yours is pretty attached to you.”
“I don’t have much time for her, though. I leave all the grooming for the stablemen.”
“Pity that.”
“Yes,” Eldara agreed. Now they had entered his chambers, and he lowered the cat down so that he could jump off his hands. The large animal remained sitting on his hands, staring at the floor impassively, clearly not willing to give up his comfortable place. Despite his silent protest, the duke shook him off and started unbuttoning his coat. Wolfram followed his example.
“I haven’t seen him around,” Wolfram said, watching the cat walk to the closed door and baa. “Actually, only once.”
“He either stays in my chambers or the study,” the duke said, opening the door and letting the cat out. “Well, I’ll go to the baths,” he said after walking over to the sofa in the middle of the room and sitting down to take his boots off. “I stink of sweat and horse.”
He glanced at Wolfram, who was now looking around, wondering where he could put his coat. Von Bielefeld had followed him into his chambers automatically, and Eldara had somehow naturally accepted that. The naturalness was going to end when the blond would suddenly decide he wanted to follow him to the baths. The prospect of himself and Wolfram soaking together in a pool was uncanny.
“Put it over that chair,” Eldara pointed. Only now did he remember that Athara hated the smell of horses. He had better tell the servants to wash the clothing Wolfram was wearing. The duke could see that, when he told von Bielefeld where to put his coat, the blond also felt the awkwardness of the situation. The younger man appeared to be somewhat lost. In a second, he lifted his coat off the chair and startled walking towards the door.
“Thank you for inviting me for a ride,” he said. “It was a pleasure.”
Eldara nodded. “Oh, the pleasure was all mine.”
---
Wolfram could hardly remember when last time he had slept so well. The fresh air and some exercise did wonders and no sooner had his head hit the pillow than he was asleep. He woke up late in the morning, rested, his mind feeling clear and sharp.
As some of the earlier clothing he had picked had been given to the servants to wash, Wolfram ransacked in the wardrobe for something else to wear. Now, he had to settle for the difficult option of picking from clothes he didn’t want to wear earlier. It took him quite some time to decide but, finally, he chose a white shirt with puffed sleeves and a gray jacket which was almost up to his knees. The bottom part of the jacket was heavy with wavy frills and, when Wolfram put the jacket on, he decided that he looked as if he was wearing a dress.
The gray knee-breeches with white stockings he had donned on made him cringe. It looked better when he pulled black boots on. He took another look at himself in the mirror and decided against a cravat; there was already enough frills on him to last him a lifetime. Wolfram spent three more minutes looking at himself and wondering if he had donned everything properly. He missed his blue military uniform. It wasn’t anywhere near being extravagant or stylish, but he knew it looked good on him and it was easy to wear – it wasn’t possible to make mistakes while putting it on.
On his way to the dining-room, he was relieved when he could hear no snickers behind his back while he was walking down the corridors, and he made a conclusion that he looked passable.
“Good morning,” Wolfram readily greeted the duke when he saw the man leaving his chambers.
The duke cast his eyes over his brother’s attire on Wolfram. Then, he looked at the blond’s face gloomily. “Good morning,” he muttered darkly, shutting the door behind himself. Without waiting for Wolfram to catch up with him, he made his way down the corridor, leaving the blond to stare at his back in bafflement. Was it something he had done yesterday? Wolfram had been of opinion that both of them had rather enjoyed their little outing in the park. Maybe he had been mistaken.
When Wolfram entered the dining-room, Halea and Athara were already present, sitting at the table, engaged in a conversation about the approaching annual festival. Greeting the siblings, the blond walked over to his usual place, which was opposite Halea, and took the seat. The duke wasn’t in the dining-room.
“Did something happen?” Wolfram asked, as Athara gave the sign for the servants to start bringing in hot dishes without waiting for his brother to arrive.
“Do you mean my brother’s absence?” Athara asked. “He has received a summon letter from His Majesty Orinth the Fifth. He should be leaving for the capital about now.”
Wolfram’s breath hitched and he was just in time to steady his hand before he could spill the glass of juice. “My presence in Raizgad has just reached a new stage, hasn’t it?” he said, chuckling uneasily. He lowered the glass back to the table, his appetite suddenly gone.
“Yes, that of an intercontinental conflict,” Athara said with a scowl on his face. He motioned for the servant to bring the steamy puffed pancakes closer. “The jacket, if I may say so, suits you much better than it did me.”
“Thank you,” Wolfram said, overwhelmed by awkwardness. He couldn’t blame Athara for thinking of him as a nuisance. He had also become painfully conscious that, with the duke gone, it was Athara now who took over the authority in the house. He didn’t believe, though, that Athara would dare to do anything against his brother’s orders. He had become aware at once that, just like Gwendal’s in Blood Pledge Castle, Eldara’s word was final in the von Ashira household. Athara may bark, but he was not allowed to bite. Hopefully.
“Eldara seemed to be in a dark mood when I saw him,” Wolfram said. He nodded to thank the servant who put a pancake in his plate. “I thought it was something I did yesterday.”
“Oh, no,” Halea denied shaking her head, “I’m certain it isn’t your fault. He’s always edgy before meeting the king.”
“Is he?” Wolfram wondered nonchalantly, putting on a spoonful of cream on his pancake. “But he always seems to be so confident in himself. What’s there to worry about?”
Wolfram’s attempts to fish around for personal information about the duke ended abruptly with Halea and Athara exchanging a knowing look.
“Try the pancakes, Wolfram,” Athara said. “They are so good that they will make you swallow your tongue.”
Meanwhile Halea gave the blond a smile filled with a polite apology but chose not to comment on the bite in her brother’s words; she must have thought von Bielefeld had deserved that. Wolfram reached for his glass and took a sip of the apple juice; he had underestimated the woman.
Silently, Wolfram ate his pancakes. They were really good. He had no doubts that Orinth the Fifth would have wanted him and the duke to visit him together. However, he had obviously been warned that von Bielefeld’s health did not allow him long journeys. He wondered if, in the long run, it would turn out to be a good or a bad thing.
---
Three eventless days passed, and Wolfram noticed that the count of the guards in the halls had considerably increased. The duke was still away, and Athara, as ordered, was getting ready for the arrival of von Bielefeld’s suite, since the forecasts announced longer breaks between the storms. It was impossible to tell the exact hour or even day, but the suite was going to disembark soon. Despite the fact that such an extreme increase in security made Wolfram uncomfortable, he could not wait for his men to arrive. He was bored out of his mind. Only after the duke had left, had he started to fully appreciate his and Eldara’s conversations: at least he had something to look forward to or fret about.
With the duke gone, and his lethargy spells becoming rarer and rarer, Wolfram’s entertainment consisted only of eating meals (which were getting stranger and more intricate in both flavor and presentation), listening to the dreamy harpist, taking walks in the park together with Halea or reading alone. The conversations with Halea still left him frustrated with his inability to keep her engaged. The problem with reading was that all Halea was able to find for him were textbooks which she and her brothers had used to learn standard Shin Makoku language. This way, he was subjected to reading excerpts of texts which were either boring or had left him maddeningly curious about their beginning or ending.
Tbc
- 9
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Bloom