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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
- 20
- 21
- 22
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 Tia Integra
Part 21
The double birthday celebration was going to take place in two days and the castle was bustling. First guests were going to arrive only tomorrow morning but thousands of things had to be done before that. The entire week had been busier than Wolfram was used to and during these past days he literally had to tread carefully so that the running and scurrying servants wouldn’t crash into him. This reminded him of the hectic preparations for Yuuri’s birthday. His memories of the occasion were hazy but a very unpleasant feeling accompanied them. Hopefully, this birthday wouldn’t be as devastating to him as the other one had been.
As intended, Wolfram did not send any invitations and didn’t expect anyone apart from his suite to celebrate his birthday. He would have liked for his family to attend but it would be too much to ask them to make a journey through the constantly stormy sea, not to speak of the dangers of them being in Kardera’s territory.
A loud gruff voice suddenly echoed in the hall. It caught the blond’s attention and he turned his head to see Yozak and Karela Ine, the captain of the duke’s palace guards, engaged in a heated discussion, their hands waving about. This had been constant since the past three days: Yozak and Karela had been obstinately arguing about the best way to ensure the safety during the long-lasting banquet. In the beginning, the servants and the guards used to flinch whenever their voices rose, but soon they stopped paying them any attention. It seemed that, for some reason, both captains grated on each other’s nerves. Usually Yozak was good at dealing with people – a smile here, a laugh there and he got away with anything. However, it was obvious that the duke’s captain was much more difficult to deal with than Yozak was used to and it irritated the redhead to no end; it was mostly Yozak going berserk while Karela just stared willfully at him and refused to bend even an inch.
Yozak still hadn’t completely recovered and took breaks of an hour or two to rest during the day. He and Fajdal had split their duties, Yozak taking the responsibility for security during the party while Fajdal took care of daily supervising. Constant disagreements with Karela exhausted Yozak as well. Wolfram had asked Yozak if he should talk about Karela with the duke but that had only earned him the soldier’s spiteful glare. Actually, Wolfram had suggested that only half-joking and had predicted Yozak’s reaction beforehand.
From high above on the stairway, Wolfram watched Yozak trying to explain something to the other captain. Karela appeared to be bored with whatever the half-Demon said. With a sigh, Wolfram leaned on the railing. Ruffling through his hair absently, he wondered if he should just go and tell Yozak he needed him for one or another reason. That would take care of it.
The blond was bored. Dying of boredom, in fact. Eldara was submerged in organizing the banquet and hardly had time for him. After that incident in the brothel, feeling that he had given away about himself much more than he should ever have, Athara avoided him. And, since Fredrick was finally back in Kardera, Halea spent her time with him.
He would have loved to fix himself a drink or two, but he could only dream of it. Yozak and Fajdal were watching him like hawks. Eldara had also made sure that liquor bottles weren’t even placed near him during meals. These past two weeks he had not taken a sip. Wolfram had been angry about their insolence at first, furious at best, however, he knew why they were doing this. He could protest, deny conviction, but, in the end, he had to admit to himself that external interference had been necessary. Then he had received Gwendal’s letter. He still cringed every time he remembered it. His brother was furious to hear about his drunken endeavors in an Esoteric Stone vault, not to mention the brothel. He had threatened that one more similar incident and he would come to Kardera personally to make sure he behaved, and no armies could stop him. Wolfram had no doubts about that.
It would probably never matter how old he was – Gwendal would always be able to intimidate him. Wolfram rolled his eyes at the ceiling. It was only natural – Gwendal was like a father figure to him, and who wanted to incur their father’s wrath?
Yozak and Karela finally appeared to have reached a compromise: Karela stopped looking bored and Yozak’s voice had toned down. Soon they were enthusiastically nodding their heads at everything the other would say. Yozak even clapped the other captain’s shoulder a few times. As a rule, this truce was fleeting – Wolfram gave them two minutes to find something else to disagree about.
“Hmm? What are you looking at so intently?”
Wolfram started and turned his head to see Eldara standing behind him, looking at the ceiling he had been looking at a second ago. Because the two captains created such a ruckus, he had not heard the man approach.

Wolfram shook his head. “I was just thinking.”
“You look positively bored.”
“Mm, well, yes,” Wolfram admitted reluctantly. He knew that the duke would not take this personally but it still made him uncomfortable. They had never talked about what happened in Eldara’s bedroom, had never even mentioned it, in fact. Wolfram hadn’t apologized for his later outburst either, but he had a feeling that the duke had decided it had only been stress. All in all, their relationship hadn’t changed at all. Wolfram was glad and relieved about that.
“What would you say about a spar?” Eldara suggested with a motion at the blond’s right hand. “It’s healed now, isn’t it?” He couldn’t help chuckling at the way Wolfram’s eyes sparkled. The blond loved swordplay. He had heard that the blond had already made a few attempts at sparring with men from his suite. He had been told that, even if a little bit rusty after such a long break, the blond was as good as the rumors suggested.
“But aren’t you busy?”
“I have promised you a spar, haven’t I? Besides, if I spend one more second trying to figure out how to arrange the seats so that everyone is happy with their neighbor, I’ll have to kill myself.”
“A pain in the butt all these parties, if you ask me,” Wolfram said, pushing himself off the railing. He started climbing down, the duke falling into step beside him.
“Yes, I’ve noticed that you don’t particularly like such gatherings. Well, neither do I.”
“They’re kind of…fake, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” the duke agreed. “These birthdays are a formality I’m not fond of.”
“Yet they create good opportunities for strengthening current and seeking out new contacts.”
Eldara nodded. “That’s their main purpose - business. And showing off women’s dresses,” he added, amused.
“I’m certain it’s not only women.”
The duke grinned. “Are your clothes ready? It would be a pity if you could not emerge in all your splendor.”
“You’re going to get it for this one,” Wolfram notified him good-naturedly. “I’ll stab you in the foot.”
“Don’t worry. However you dress, I’m certain you’ll look stunning.”
“Or the eye,” the blond threatened.
Eldara chuckled. He led the way downstairs past the Esoteric Stone vault, to the last room in the corridor. On their way, Fajdal saw them and started to follow; he always stayed near Wolfram even when the blond was unaware.
The duke opened the door to the training room and a gust of cool air whisked past Wolfram’s face. There was a fireplace in the room, but it was lit only in the mornings to make the temperature bearable. Otherwise, the men were expected to keep themselves warm through their exercises. In the summer, this room was hardly ever used since everyone trained in the yard.
Being the last one to enter, Fajdal shut the door softly behind him. Wolfram headed for the nearby rack that held the weapons. He had already been in the training room several times in hopes of seeing the duke spar with his men. His attempts at gauging Eldara’s skill, however, had been for naught since all he had managed to see had been the duke’s men sparring among themselves. Later, he had come here to watch the men from his own suite. Needless to say that he had been impressed. When he had tried sparring against one of the new men Gwendal had sent, he ended up on his ass the first minute. It was mostly because he hadn’t held a sword in quite some time now but it was still impressive.
The blond picked up one of the wooden training swords from the rack and the duke did the same. Watching Wolfram flexing and unflexing his fingers around the handle, Fajdal leant against the wall next to the door. Wolfram wasn’t in his best of shapes – his sword-hand was rather stiff after such a long break. He doubted von Bielefeld stood a chance against the duke - he had asked Yozak and other men who could have seen the duke fight, and, those who said they had, said von Ashira was a formidable opponent.
Eldara shrugged his dark brown military jacket off and hung it on the coat rack near the door. He rolled his shoulders and swung the sword a few times to check if the white frilly shirt was comfortable to fight in. Wolfram followed his example and slid out of his jacket as well; it seemed that Eldara was taking the spar seriously. The blond realized that the man must have also done his research on him. This was going to be most satisfying.
They took several minutes to warm up, then stood facing each other. Wolfram attacked first, his sword drawing a high arc above his head. The wooden blade was parried, sliding down the edge of Eldara’s sword with a rattle. The duke swung himself back, freeing his sword and attempted a backwards swing. Wolfram ducked. The air whooshed above his head and, if this were a real blade, now his hair would be even shorter.
The blond thrust upwards and, his sword still not ready to parry the blow, Eldara clumsily hopped sideways. Wolfram’s sword swung upwards to gain momentum then went for Eldara’s head. The duke parried the blow but the sheer force of it made his hand numb. Grunting, he pushed back, employing all his strength. He twisted his sword, shoving the younger man backwards. Wolfram stumbled, but managed to roll over instead of flopping down onto his backside. In a second, he was facing Eldara again.
The duke parried the blow that aimed for his midsection. He retaliated and they exchanged bouts of succeeding attacks, neither giving in, trying to corner each other. Eldara was impressed. He had expected Wolfram to be good but not <i>this</i> good. To think that the blond must still be rusty! And there was also an eleven-year difference between them to consider.
“You’re better than you’ve told me,” Wolfram pointed out as they circled each other, looking for an opening to attack.
“You haven’t been very accurate either,” Eldara noted. “If I had known, I would have tried to force you into this hall earlier, injuries or not. We’ve wasted time needlessly.”
Wolfram grinned. “I feel the same way.”
“Who trained you?”
“Mainly my brothers, but I think I’ve received a lesson or two from nearly every soldier who has ever served in the castle.”
“Right. Conrart Weller. Correct me if I am wrong, but he’s considered one of the best swordsmen in Shin Makoku, isn’t he?”
The blond nodded. Eldara obviously wanted to continue the conversation but Wolfram charged at him, cutting the flow of anything he might have said, off. He didn’t particularly want to go there. The mention of Conrart’s, just as Yuuri’s, name made him uncomfortable.
Fajdal had seen Wolfram’s swordplay many times but it was still a sight to behold. It was even more impressive when he faced such a strong opponent. The long years of training lessons with both Conrart and Gwendal had paid off spectacularly. The blond was gifted. He would have been even better, however, if he had continued his training sessions with Conrart. Fajdal didn’t know what exactly happened but, at one point, Wolfram and Conrart fell out. It happened years ago but even now, they hardly spoke to each other. There had been many attempts to reconcile them but they had only made Wolfram angry.
Eldara ducked the blow aimed for his head and lashed out at the blond’s side. Wolfram whirled sideways and managed to block the other man’s sword at the last second. The duke pushed, though, forcing him backwards, and the blond’s sword was in an uncomfortable position for him to effectively withstand the pressure.
Step by step Wolfram was forced back, the wall getting closer and closer. Both men were gritting their teeth in exertion, their foreheads glistening with sweat. The blond tried to shift his sword and raise it higher so that his wrist wouldn’t be bent in such an awkward position but the duke didn’t give in. Then Wolfram leaned his upper body backwards as far as he could to keep out of Eldara’s sword reach. His feet performed a strange dance when he whirled around suddenly.
The duke’s sword pierced the air where the blond’s thigh was a fraction of a second ago. Wolfram fell down, unbalanced in his attempt to avoid the sword. He hit the wooden floor with a soft thud but quickly lifted himself off it with his left palm. His right leg swiftly shot up, his foot catching Eldara on the back of his knee. The duke stumbled and fell forward, his left leg folding itself under him. Then Wolfram’s booted feet struck his chest with such force that Eldara flew a few meters backwards.
Fajdal barely managed to keep himself from whistling when the duke’s back painfully crashed onto the floor. The man hadn’t let go of his sword but the impact had dizzied him and he was too late to effectively block Wolfram’s incoming sword. He managed to brush it aside but had to fend it off continuously until he somehow was finally able to get on his left knee. Wolfram, however, didn’t give him an opportunity to stand up. He slashed at Eldara again. The duke managed to block but the blond shoved with all his might and Eldara toppled backwards. Wolfram followed him, grabbing at his right wrist to prevent him from lifting his sword again. He held his own sword pressed against the duke’s neck.
“Impressive,” Eldara said, his breathing rash. “But I have an inkling that your hand-to-hand fights are even more remarkable.” He had seen some of Wolfram’s moves back then in the baths, but the impression had been spoiled by the blond carelessly injuring himself with a glass bottle.
Wolfram blinked his eyes; they were stinging from sweat. “Maybe.” He had a feeling the duke wasn’t all that bad at fighting himself.
Wolfram hadn’t asked if he gave up, and the duke said nothing. The blond kept him pressed against the floor. He saw the other man swallow against the wooden blade, the sound harsh and clear even while Wolfram’s blood drummed in his ears from the exercise.
The blond slowly became aware of the heat coming from the body underneath him. Panting, he and the duke stared at each other, their lower bodies pressed together. The feeling was vaguely familiar to Wolfram, bringing him two weeks back to Eldara’s bedroom. The sweat and the scent that was unique to the duke filled the blond’s nostrils. The hand holding the wooden practice sword at the duke’s throat trembled lightly when Wolfram leaned in.
Fajdal cleared his throat with a loud jarring sound before Wolfram’s mouth could descend on the duke’s. Wolfram frowned, blinked a few times, and turned to look at his bodyguard. Reddening, the blond removed the sword from Eldara’s throat and stood up. Awkwardly, he held his hand out for the older man, helping him to his feet.
In silence, they returned the practice swords to the stand. Wolfram was first to leave the training hall. He had wanted to propose a spar tomorrow but with what had nearly occurred, he was certain it would sound too suggestive.
“Have I done the right thing interfering, Sir?” Fajdal asked softly, as he and Wolfram walked away from the training hall.
At first, Wolfram gave him a sharp look, but then his gaze softened. “I don’t know,” he muttered silently. Aware of the curious look Fajdal was giving him, Wolfram rubbed at his sweaty forehead. Honestly, he didn’t know.
---
“We’ve got a surprise for you,” Halea said to Wolfram at the dinner table. She was all smiles, looking radiant next to von Sarda.
“Really?” Wolfram asked, his voice cheerful, but his face reflecting caution with every muscle.
“You don’t really like surprises, do you?” the duke chuckled. “I can assure you that you will like this one.” He turned to the servant beside him. “Tell them to…”
He was cut off by the door to the dining room bursting open; Gunter von Christ whooshed into the dining room like a flash of lightning.
“Your Highness!” he cried in the throes of pure ecstasy. “Your Highness!” He sprinted straight for Wolfram, who was frozen in his seat, his eyes wide in disbelief. With his hands, Gunter felt Wolfram’s head, shoulders, and chest, then gave one more cry filled with unspeakable joy. “You’re alright, Your Highness!” Then the familiar scent of shampoo and cologne enveloped the blond altogether in Gunter’s arms.
“Yes, I’m alright, Gunter. Just fine, really,” Wolfram laughed softly, patting the other man on his back. “You’re crushing me, Gunter.”
While Wolfram was just as glad to see Gunter, he was dimly aware of stunned looks von Ashiras and von Sarda were giving Gunter and him; it always took time to get used to certain mannerisms of Gunter’s. Wolfram laughed again. Then, over the lavender-haired man’s shoulder he caught a movement and gasped.
“Mother.”
“Wolfram, dear,” Cecilie von Spitzweg said, “I’m rather insulted you didn’t think of inviting us to your birthday party.” Her pointy nose scrunched in distaste. “Inconceivable!”
Wolfram gave her an amiable smile. “Mother.”
“Well,” she said, “I suppose it couldn’t be helped.”
Gunter had let go of Wolfram and he stood up. Spreading his arms, he approached Cecilie, whose eyes had suddenly turned watery. “Mother.” He grunted when she grabbed him into a painful hug. Closing his eyes, Wolfram returned the embrace. Sweet smell that was unique only to her encircled him and with that came unbidden tears.
“Oh, Wolfie, dear, I was so worried about you!”
Afraid that his voice would shake, Wolfram didn’t answer. They stayed like that for a few more moments then Cecilie pushed her son away and, holding him by his shoulders, gave the young man an appraising look.
“You seem well,” she said, smiling. “You grew. Now you look just like your father. So handsome and well-built!”
Feeling overwhelmed, Wolfram reddened in embarrassment. “Mother.” Everybody knew that he looked just like her, only a male version. It was beyond him why she had always kept insisting he looked like his father. The only thing they had in common was blond hair.
“Please, take seats and join us,” Eldara invited his guests, motioning at the table. He, his siblings and von Sarda were standing. There were no introductions and Wolfram realized that they had already met his mother and Gunter earlier.
“When did you arrive?” Wolfram asked his mother, when all of them were comfortably seated, their plates being filled by servants.
“About an hour ago. The journey was exhausting, and Eldara, being a sweetheart that he is, suggested we refresh ourselves in the baths before meeting you.”
Blinking, Wolfram turned to Eldara, who smiled at him. ‘Wolfie’, he mouthed soundlessly, saluting the blond with his glass, making him turn away quickly and concentrate on his mother again. It seemed that his mother had the liberty in the ways of naming people.
Cecilie related to him that they had received the invitations to both the birthday parties about two weeks ago, and, once again, Wolfram was assured that the double celebration had been arranged quite some time ago without even asking him. The surprise was really nice, though. He couldn’t help grinning while his mother and Gunter were relating the stories from home.
“Have you decided on the engagement day?” Cecilie asked Wolfram. “I think the first day of the banquet would be perfect.”
It took Wolfram a few moments to realize whom she meant. Quickly, he gave Halea and Fredrick an apologetic glace. Halea seemed to be amused while von Sarda was visibly alarmed and was about to protest. Wolfram waved his hands in front of him. “No, mother, you misunderstood. Those are just rumors.”
“But the idea is wonderful, isn’t it?” Eldara told Fredrick, causing the younger male’s eyes widen.
Von Sarda turned to give Halea a perplexed look. She smiled at him sweetly, nodding. “Well, if Fredrick doesn’t mind…”
For a moment, Wolfram thought that Fredrick looked like a hare in a tunnel that was being torn apart by a dozen hungry foxes. In a minute, though, his face cleared and he returned Halea’s smile. “Then let’s announce it,” he said, still uncertainly but obviously already getting used to the idea of such a quick outcome.
Cecilie clapped her hands excitedly. “That’s fantastic!”
“Such good news!” agreed the duke, raising his glass, the toast at the ready. “For the lovely couple, then.”
Congratulations and wishes for the best started pouring like nourishments from the horn of plenty. Halea answered them with a radiant smile, while Fredrick accepted them with more composure. Soon, everybody settled down and continued dining in high spirits. It didn’t slip past Wolfram’s eyes, though, Eldara saluting his mother with his glass. The blond realized then that he hadn’t given his mother enough credit – she had just played hand in hand with the duke. It had only taken a few seconds and von Sarda had suddenly found himself engaged. Were they on such good terms, his mother and Eldara?
“And if we are still on the topic,” Cecilie said in a moment, “have you given the thought to the matter we discussed a few months ago?”
“A few months ago? Was it at His Majesty Yuuri Shibuya’s birthday?” Eldara seemed not to understand what she was talking about. “You will have to forgive me, but what matter are we talking about?”
“The matter of Gwendal, dear. Have you considered marrying him?”
The table went absolutely quiet. To his surprise, Wolfram saw that the duke didn’t appear to be shocked. He churned the wine in his glass with a bored expression on his face.
“I thought it was agreed that I’m not up to his standards?” he said.
Cecilie chuckled. “Oh my, so you’re still bitter about that.”
Eldara’s eyebrows rose a little and now he looked amused. “I wouldn’t say ‘bitter’. I think it’s closer to ‘enlightened’.”
Wolfram listened, his gaze flitting from his mother to Eldara and back again and then he though that he finally knew why the duke liked to try and annoy Gwendal so much. He didn’t know what exactly had happened between the two, but this was some sort of payback. But then, it was in the duke’s nature to play games with people, so it was probably nothing exceptional.
“Don’t mind him,” Cecilie said. “He was just in a bad mood. You suit each other tremendously! He would make such a good husband!”
“I have no doubts about that,” Eldara said. He took a sip from his glass. “Whoever marries him, will be very lucky. Now let’s discuss the engagement at hand.”
The rest of the evening was spent planning how and when to announce it and then, unnoticeably, the talk turned to the not-faraway wedding. Wolfram was impressed. The more Eldara talked, the more confident and joyful von Sarda became. He was as good as done. In the morning, Fredrick would probably believe that it was he himself who had proposed to Halea.
Tbc
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Bloom