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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.

Chapter List
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Chapter One
The sea was wide, an unmarked territory accepting everyone into her deep blue arms which rolled, slapped and embraced the ships that tore through wave and crest on wind filled sails. Shin Makoku's flag flew below a white pendant on the tip of every mast, both waving proudly on a breeze that hurried them along. They were making excellent time. They would be in Trebic maybe even half a day earlier than expected. Conrad was not pleased, even as he rubbed his little brother's shoulders with him half slung over the starboard railings with shuddering wretches, hands white knuckled against the salt kissed wood. To grant Wolfram one reprieve would only hasted a different sort of suffering. He'd rather he gasp around chunks of bread and fish than step foot on that foreign soil.
Wolfram rested his forehead against the rails. He was done for now but not done for good. His pale complexion was tinged green with sickness and he breathed through his mouth in steady, slow breaths. Conrad moved his hand from shoulders to head, pressing bangs away from forehead and eyes. Wolfram looked up at him, stern of face, and pushed up to standing, still not strong enough to let go of the flat rail.
"You don't have to stand over me, you know."
"I know." But he would do so anyway.
Wolfram scowled slightly. "I agreed to this so I don't need you just standing there looking miserable like it's you who's been promised."
"I would take your place if I could."
"Yuuri would cry."
"Yuuri will cry." Conrad placed an arm around his brother's small but heavily weighted shoulders. Wolfram remained stiff and agitated but sank softly against him when his presence did not falter. The older said nothing for a long time, entertaining the idea of Yuuri splashing down right before them, ready to make hasty demands that would annul Gwendal's orders and turn them back towards Shin Makoku's shores. Whether he truely wanted a male fiance or not, Wolfram leaving them for such a reason would surly be more intolerable. The return of the Maou could mean borrowed time for further negotiations, time to keep the cease fire in place while other gestures of good intent and symbols of alliance traded possession. Every splash of marine life caught Conrad's hopeful eyes but delved deep below the waves without the flail and scream of their fifteen year old king.
As much as he loved her and would not dare deny her, Conrad felt a twinge of regret for their mother's flirtatious mannerisms which had charmed her into enemy hearts on more than one occasion. It wasn't her alone that had set a precedent for romance to mingle with politics. Beds were like boarders, shared with many and not always by those you most enjoyed the company of. He was grateful there was very little of that during his times of battle, race wars leaving much to be desired in the way of political marriage outside those of noble families within. Yuuri's vision for a world that treated human and mazoku as equals opened doors once locked shut and barricaded. Not that Yuuri knew or anyone foresaw. The great ex-demon queen with all her beauty and style was too old to marry the Trebic King's son with none but Gwendal, Conrad or Wolfram left to the line still somewhat in power. Greta, thank Shinou, was too young.
Conrad looked down at his brother's chest where a red flower pendant made of yarn stood pined to his left breast against the green of his travel clothes. A parting gift from Greta soaked now in the spray of salt water where before it was washed in tears.
"Will you write often?"
Wolfram scowled. "Of course I'll write. What else am I going to do with my time? Not as if they're going to let me keep my sword."
"You could paint," Conrad offered.
"Yes. That's what I'll do. I'll fill so many canvases that Yuuri will have to buy a second castle just to store them all."
The older brother chuckled softly. "No one would mind that."
"They had better not. And I expect every single one of them to be hanging when I visit. Every - Last - One."
Conrad nodded, envisioning hallways filed with abstract art, bold colors replacing his bold presence. Wolfram pushed away, walking to the benches set along the cabin walls, sitting down with his neck stretched, head back with eyes to the sun. The older joined him, sitting slowly, still unsure if his true mission was to throw him in a row boat to escape or see him safely to Trebic. The men on the ship seemed to feel the same, often turning a blind eye to them both, leaving the upper decks sparsely manned with hardly a soul to stop him.
Wolfram closed his eyes, complexion still green as the ship rolled onward. "Don't let Yuuri take it out on Aniue," he said, voice deeper and husky with seriousness.
Conrad let his head bow. "I'll stay close by his majesty's side to make sure he does not cause offense."
"Good. Knowing that wimp he'll say the first thing he thinks of without any consideration. If I'm not there to keep him in line, he'll just become a weak king whom everyone indulges. Don't let him get too far ahead of himself but don't.... Well, just make sure he remembers who he's speaking to."
"Don't worry. I'll protect Yuuri and Gwendal."
"Sir! Vessel to port!"
The two men looked over at a gathering of crew stomping their way up from below deck to the port side railings. Conrad stood, leaving the weaker, and walked to the growing mass as men ran up stairs and climbed upon masts, running to aft and bow. On the horizon he could see a ship, coming on nearly dead ahead though the vessel seemed to ease further and further to port as though intending to sail wide past. The captain with his spyglass stood beside Conrad, offering up his farseeing eye to the knight with scarred, calloused hands. Conrad took it, pressing the smaller end to his eye as he looked atop the distant masts as they grew closer from the sea.
"Trebic," the Captain said without question. "You and the prince better take to below. Diplomatic missions don't mean all that much to merchants and traders who get jumpy arounf mazoku."
Conrad kept the lens pointed at the ship, squinting against the leagues. "Not many merchants and traders sail in full naval uniform." He handed the spyglass back to the captain. "We'll come up along side them. Make sure the white flag is visible and order your men to keep their hands away from their swords and pistols."
"Yes, Sir Weller. You think it's some kind of envoy?"
The knight nodded. "Something like that." He returned to his brother's side, the curious mazoku no longer sitting on a bench but standing, hand steadied against the wooden walls. "Let's go below, Wolfram."
"What is it?"
"Your Bridegroom's royal navy."
Wolfram leaned to look around him at the approaching ship. Conrad placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him to lead, persuading him with pressure to move to the stairwell that lead below deck. Wolfram complied, swaying on unsteady feet as he took the stairs with handrail gripped tight. He walked to his room, falling on his bed in stomach rolling agony as Conrad took to one of the chests set before the bed and took out Wolfram's dress uniform with embroidered black cuffs against his usual blue. He set the slacks and jacket along the foot of the bed, looking at pressed white shirts for the best laced collar.
"What are you doing, Conrad?"
Conrad remained silent for a moment, voice lost somewhere in the folds of white cotton as he pieced together something appropriate for his youngest brother to wear. Not so long ago, these would have been the clothes with which he'd have dressed the naked corpse in its mist filled coffin. The heavy feeling was the same as it had been then. Presumptuous and impatient as the Trebicians were being, a good first impression was important.
He held out hands and pulled Wolfram to sit, seasickness giving him the strength of an inebriated man. He took from him his yarn flower and laid it with his fresh uniform. He undressed him from his travel clothes of moss green and clay brown, gentle and slow to still his unease. Wolfram offered no help and no resistance, a puppet to his deeds as he buttoned his clean shirt and put each foot through the legs of his trousers. He helped him to stand and pulled him together so the younger could keep his eyes forward. He closed the belt and jacket around him, pined the yarn flower over his heart and swept his hair into order while Wolfram chewed mint leaves to freshen his breath. It was almost a ridiculous level of help the younger seemed to require but Conrad would not make him do it himself any more than Wolfram felt the need to refuse.
"How do I look?" Wolfram asked, long dark lashes and large green eyes even more striking against the pale of his discomfort.
Conrad kissed his head. "Like a prince."
The thunk of heavy towropes against the deck echoed loudly, several times repeated distant and near. Conrad looked at the ceiling, pulling Wolfram closer out of instinct at the cue of their arrival. Wolfram leaned his head against his shoulder for a moment then placed both palms against his chest and pushed himself away.
"You're going to make wrinkles."
"Yes, of course."
"And I'm going to be sick if I stay down here much longer."
"I know."
Wolfram walked to the door, hand out to steady himself as required. He looked over his shoulder at his brother. "Are you coming?"
Conrad smiled sadly. "Yes," he said, and walked close behind him.
On the deck were strangers in uniform waiting alongside a set of planks set across the two vessels. The Shin Makoku Captain looked anxious as armed "enemy" soldiers stood at attention on his ship, nervous sailors keeping their hands close to their own armaments, waiting for an excuse to use them. Wolfram stood straighter and walked with pride and purpose to the middle of the cleared path, seemingly dropping all sickness aside for a moment's regal poise.
Coming across the planks in garments of scarlet and gold, a tall ginger man of a strong build smiled with a long, wide mouth that seemed a deep chasm between full mustache and beard. He had no neck so much as hair and broad shoulders that were a match for Yozak's in build. His chuckle was a deep, pleased sound that rumbled as much as it spoke. "So their stories were not as exaggerated as I had feared. My dear, you truly are beautiful." Both feet fell heavy like anchors to the deck of the mazoku ship and he bowed, hand waiting in the air for Wolfram's touch which was hesitant and uncertain. The ginger man pulled his knuckles to his lip, scratching a kiss against them. "I am Alfgeir Havard; your betrothed. You may call me Alfie."
"Alfie.. my-"
There was a loud crack as Alfgeir's open palm fell hard against Wolfram's left cheek. The mazoku reeled, thrown by the force but pulled close and saved from stumbling to his knees by the human's grip on his hand. Conrad's muscles tensed and knotted as he breathed in heated breaths. Wolfram's face was red where it would soon turn purple, eyes wide and watered by surprise and pain.
Alfgeir roared with laughter. He loosened his grip and let Wolfram step back, patting him on the shoulders like one would a man choking. "That's more like it, isn't that right, my dear? I must say, you mazoku are very interesting people! What a tradition!" He laughed and his men chuckled in chorus.
Conrad felt blood in his mouth as his teeth pierced through the flesh of his cheeks, watched Wolfram spit blood on the deck from a lip split. First impressions were very important and Conrad hated Alfgeir Havard.
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A Marriage of State