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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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"He's not marrying him!" Yuuri shouted, meat of his palm striking hard against the desk. No one flinched or cared to silence him. In a room among friends, any outburst was welcomed, especially one of their allied king.
Gwendal gave a concentrating frown at Yuuri's demand, brow creased permanently in concern. In attendance in the seating room were Sir Bersi Veleif and Wolfram among the normal cast of personal retainers who accompanied Yuuri in his political forays. Murata's own down turned stare had hints of Gwendal's anxieties. The serving of tea and sandwiches set on the short table among the chairs and sofa remained untouched.
"Shibuya, as was explained before, Trebic rules by blood and marriage. The reason the Big Cimarron general married Wolfram is the same reason why the next king must. Wolfram is the last-"
"You're right, I have heard it before, and I'm telling you it's not happening!" Yuuri looked to Conrad for support, finding the soldier's jaw set and hands straight to his sides like the military man he was. It was his stance for when things were outside his control. Yuuri strengthened his resolve and turned to the Trebic consult. "What would they have done if Wolfram had died too? Why can't they just do that now instead?"
Bersi frowned, scratching at his beard. "Because he is alive. Please understand that I have no real desire to marry him or even to be king for that matter. But I want certain things for my country and I trust myself more than the others in the court to continue in the path our king set for us. To that end we are in agreement."
Yuuri stared at Wolfram, his friend avoiding his gaze with the turn of his head. "When exactly were you going to tell me?"
Wolfram said nothing, still ordered to silence, eyes refusing to look.
The king put his hands to his head, pulling on his dark hair in frustration. "This is not happening. It's just not. I could see him staying here for a little while, maybe coming back and visiting or making sure the reconstruction was going well but not this again."
"It is.. an unfortunate burden," Bersi said. The older man had large bags under his eyes from long nights of related discussions. "As it stands, however, it is not a matter for which we require Shin Makoku's permission. Wolfram's consent is all that has been required for this particular arrangement."
Yuuri put his hands down on the table again. He needed to move. He needed to act. He needed to do anything but just stand around being told there was nothing he could do. "Well what were the other options? We'll make it work."
"Well, there was one-Ohf!" Bersi rubbed at his chest where Wolfram's fist had struck him, blonde glaring at him dangerously.
Yuuri stared at them in utter confusion. There was a way and Wolfram didn't want him to hear about it; had even chosen this instead. Why? He waited for Wolfram to look his way but his green eyes fell to the floor instead, glancing only for a moment to see that he was still raptly held in his attention before turning away sharply.
Gunter leaned forward from his seat, elbows resting on his knees. "If there are alternatives, I think we would like to hear them. Even if this is an internal matter, Shin Makoku still has a large investment in Wolfram's safety and future."
Yuuri single-mindedly ignored the continued conversation. "Wolfram," he called. The prince consort still did not look at him. Yuuri walked over and stood directly at his feet, hands clamping down on his shoulders. "Wolfram, stop it! You can't talk to me and now you won't even look at me? I'm trying to bring you home! Why are you working against me?!"
Wolfram's face snapped forward to face him, eyes narrow and nearly hidden under the veil of his long lashes. His anger was palpable and fire hot. Yuuri could not recall any action he'd taken which would bring such anger against him. "Please," he begged, voice lower and softer. "Just let me heal you. I need to speak with you, this is too important." He slid his right hand along his shoulder, fingers curling along his neck.
Wolfram turned his head away.
"Wolfram, will you stop acting like a brat and just let me do this?!"
"You com-" Yuuri's hand came down over Wolfram's mouth, silencing the inhuman crackle of sounds that had crawled from his damaged throat. It was horrendous. The water in Wolfram's eyes betrayed the pain of even so little spoken. His breath was heavy behind his hand.
Yuuri bent his forehead to meet his, hands still clasped around his mouth and neck as he concentrated his power into him. "Please, don't. I'm sorry. And I promise I will sleep all the rest of today and tomorrow and on the whole voyage home if you just please, please, please don't pull away. Please let me do this. Please."
Wolfram's breath was quick and short at first but gradually slowed. His hands grabbed him by the shirt but did not force him away. Yuuri did as he recalled to do, wishing for more of Julia's skill in the way Murata could learn from his previous incarnations. He let the maryoku flow through him, begging it to soothe and repair what was unseen but in ruin. He could make it better. He could fix it. He did not stop until he felt Murata tap him on the shoulder, a subtle signal that he'd done enough and needed to let it rest. Yuuri stood up slowly, light headed, as he let his hands fall away from Wolfram's skin.
The bruises around his lips were gone but the fire still burned bright in his eyes. Wolfram let go of his grasp on his shirt, pushing him away instead, perhaps harder than he had intended as the king stumble back slightly against Murata. "Don't you ever handle me like that again."
The voice was rough still but once again sounded as the one that belonged to him. Yuuri let out a long, shaky breath of relief and desperation. "I'm sorry. I just needed... 'm sorry. Sorry." He fell into the nearest chair, face in his hands as he felt the waves of dizziness ride past him. It could wait. Everything could wait. Everything but the task of bringing Wolfram home.
Bersi coughed in the resounding silence which had hung pregnant in the air after the former fiances' exchange. "Ah..., Lord Christ, there is in fact only one other option. Even considering that, however, Wolfram would still need to remain as Prince Consort until the heir was of a rightful age."
"There is an heir?" Gwendal's surprise betrayed the slightest hint of relief.
Bersi nodded. "Yes, through Prince Alfgeir."
"If he has an heir then why have you decided to go this route?" Gunter's face as cross with confusion. "Surely in the time before the child is legally appointed as king you would still have the power to affect the political direction Trebic takes."
"A queen, actually. And yes, we'd rule much the same until that day."
Problem solved, solution granted, everything fine and dandy accept for the most important part: Wolfram would rather marry Bersi. Yuuri looked up from his hands. "I don't understand. Why?"
Wolfram looked at him for the space of several heartbeats, expression sliding from anger to grim acceptance as he leaned forward in his seat. "Yuuri, he has an heir through me. Through us."
The same feeling of dread that had seized him on the dance floor fell on Yuuri again, cold and empty and utterly out of his depth. His hands shook slightly and he clamped them down against his knees as he stared across the table. Wolfram did not avert his eyes and for all the words that came to Yuuri's mind, the only ones that came out were, "I.. I am so mad at you right now."
"I know."
"How could you get Greta involved?"
"It was never supposed to be like this. There were contingencies planned, we had it all figured out, we never expected-"
"So either you marry Bersi or I have to give up Greta to take your place?" Yuuri could hear the panic in his own voice, the weak tilt to his words that he knew made him every bit the wimp Wolfram claimed him to be.
Bersi interjected, taking pity on the fathers who stared in conflict over the table. "Your Majesty, I assure you, she would not be taking his place. Your daughter would be queen in her own right as the current princess to the crown, not through the necessity of her own marriage. As a human, she is eligible to rule in ways that Wolfram can never be. And by virtue of being the princess of Shin Makoku as well, the strength of the bond between the two kingdoms continues. Of course, appointing her as the queen would require joint approval as there is the matter of joint custody."
"And as she is not in the line for our throne, there is no conflict of inheritance." Gunter sighed, rubbing at his brow.
"I know. It's quiet nearly perfect. But Wolfram did not believe--as seems to be true--that his Majesty would take to the idea."
Yuuri felt himself again become the center of attention but could not bring himself to care. Game over. Restart from saved file. Revert back to before it all had happened and try again. He was tired in body, mind and soul. It was all he could do to keep his gaze locked on Wolfram's--like saying a word over and over and over again until everything lost its meaning and became noise and pixelated dust.
Wolfram sat back, uncrossing his legs. "Can we have a minute alone, please?"
Bersi nodded, patting his knee as he stood along with the others. There was a minutes rustling and footfalls as the men filed out of the room, Conrad the last to leave as he quietly closed the door behind him. Even alone they did not speak nor move, not even after the click of the latch as they waited in silence for words to appear in the spaces where friends and colleagues had now left vacant.
Yuuri placed his face in his hands again. Appearances never mattered in front of Wolfram. "I am so, so mad at you."
"It would have been better if you'd never found out."
"No," Yuuri wiped away tears that were brimming but not allowed to fall. "No, I should know. I should know the choices you have to make or I can't help you. You should have told me, you should have said something or written something or done something, damnit, she's my daughter!"
"Our daughter."
"There was never an 'us'!" Yuuri cringed with his own words, muscles tensing to stand, body pacing. "Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?! What the hell am I supposed to do now?!"
"You don't have to do anything! I'm handling it!" The hurt had brought up Wolfram's hackles. He remained seated but poised to strike like a coiled snake.
The king shook his head, gesturing wildly. "This isn't handling it. Marrying Bersi isn't handling it! Wolfram... damnit, Wolfram!" He turned to him, grabbing on tight to the back of a chair. "I love you!"
Wolfram stared but had no immediate reply. His face betrayed neither surprise nor joy as he simply watched Yuuri watching him. He swallowed, mouth dry. "Since when?" he asked. His voice was hoarse, perhaps from shouting; perhaps emotion.
Yuuri breathed deeply, body shaking. "Since I realized that what I lost when I lost you was so much more than just a friend. And I know... I know you understand what it's like. When you don't see what's right in front of you either because you just don't want to or you just keep telling yourself it's not... I am so, so lucky that I have any chance at all left to tell you how much I need you. How much I want you there with me no matter what. The way we were. Only this time with me not being completely blind."
Wolfram let his head hang, hair obscuring his face. He breathed deep, several long pauses passing between them where thoughts failed to become words. "We could ask her. She's old enough to understand."
"And young enough to decide based on whatever she thinks will make us happiest."
The prince consort nodded, rising from his seat. "It's not a bad life, Yuuri. And I'd be here. With her. She could be with you in the summer and winter and I could have her in the spring and fall. And we could visit in between. Either way... I want that. I don't want marrying again to mean I miss out on being her father."
Yuuri nodded, gravitating towards Wolfram as the other stepped nearer to him. He took his hands first, holding them as they stood several feet apart, neither looking at anything more than where their skin touched. Yuuri pulled him in closer, slowly wrapping his arms around him as Wolfram's hands followed up his arms to wrap around his shoulders. Chest to chest, heart beat to heart beat, breath to breath.
"I love you, Wolfram," Yuuri repeated on a whisper.
Wolfram bent his head, face tucked against his neck. He shuddered with a deep sob that forced its way into the world and past all restraints. His arms tightened around his king, Yuuri's own arms pulling Wolfram tight as the tears washed down his skin and soaked his shirt. He cried unabashedly; clinging, choking. By whatever grief or happiness that brought them, Yuuri accepted every drop and whimper, offering only the concern and care of his own heart to try and mend what was asunder.
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A Marriage of State