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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
- 2
- 3
- 4
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. Should eventually be Yuuri x Wolfram
Summary: With Yuuri’s upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them?
A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 20.
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 3
The Duke of Raizgad was sipping his wine leisurely and watching Gwendal von Voltaire carrying his drunken youngest brother into the castle. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Gwendal where the blond had nodded off. Leaving him asleep on that bench for the night would have resulted in interesting patterns on the blond’s face; mosquitoes were vicious tonight.
The brothers disappeared inside the castle and, sighing, the duke turned his attention back to what was left of the banquet. The mass of people had considerably thinned out. Now, there were about thirty of them left. They had broken into small groups of “very drunk”, “shouting and laughing”, and “discussing certain topics”.
The sky had become dark as well with a star here and there, the air cooling significantly. Yawning and wishing for everyone to finally go to sleep, the servants were following the guests, serving either a glass of wine or a snack.
The duke was keeping an eye on two people farther in the garden. They were the only reason he was not in his bed yet. His sister had struck up a long conversation with someone whom he vaguely knew as Fredrick von Sarda. Despite the appearance that von Sarda seemed to be a gentleman, the duke didn’t want to risk leaving them unchaperoned in case von Sarda suddenly decided to introduce Halea to the variety of bushes in the garden.
Finally, the two started walking towards the castle. Trying not to appear too obvious, the duke waited for a few minutes then followed them inside. He found his sister in their room, safe and secure and in a good mood as well. She was getting ready for bed.
“Can you help me undo the corset?”
Eldara looked at his sister, who had turned her back to him expectantly. “Where is your maid?” he asked while mistrustfully eyeing the webby structure of ties on her back.
“I told her she could have the evening free; something disagreed with her stomach.”
“I see. Really, one has to get used to what they eat here.” The duke cast a look at the window behind his sister. “Alright, just move away from that window. I would not want people to think we are doing something indecent here.”
Halea followed his gaze towards the window. The curtains were drawn but their shadows cast by the candles could probably be seen from the outside. She shook her head. “You have the weirdest ideas,” she said moving away from the window and walking farther into the room.
“It’s not me. It’s bystanders who have them,” Eldara said, wondering what exactly he should do with the corset ties. Maids were so much better at this. He hoped he would not need to help her to get this torture tool back on in the morning. “What exactly should I…?” he asked, tugging at the ties clumsily.
“Just pull them looser so I can pull it over my head.”
It took a few minutes for the duke to loosen the ties while his sister was huffing impatiently at the amount of time he took. Awkwardly, he turned away when Halea started to pull the corset over her head. He started unbuttoning his jacket. He suddenly felt dead tired.
“Fredrick said that Cecilie tried to pick him up as well,” Halea said, when she was finally free of the corset. She exhaled in relief. “She seems such a simpleminded bimbo. And to think that she was their Queen…”
Eldara hummed to show that he had heard the comment but wasn’t going to express his opinions on it. “Fredrick, huh?” he wondered instead. “So you’re already using your first names?”
“He’s cute.”
“If you want ‘cute’, get yourself a kitten,” the duke said frowning, his irritation rising due to his tiredness. “Yes, just get yourself a cat. No, three of them. That would also take care of your wish to have babies.”
Halea scrunched her nose. “You’re so…feh.” She finally wrestled her puffed dress off and spread it onto one of the free chairs in the room then she picked up her nightshirt.
Eldara’s frown deepened. Maybe he really was <i>“feh”</i> and maybe he really was overprotective of her just as his brother had said, but he would really prefer her stroking a cat instead of Fredrick’s…tail. Eldara suddenly developed a headache.
“Well, I’m going to my corner,” Halea pointed at the bed on the opposite side of the room. “I still can’t believe they accommodated us in one room.”
“You know that it’s my fault for not warning them that I’d be bringing you as well.”
“Well, yes,” Halea agreed with a shrug.
The duke watched her walk over to her bed. He thought that he would be happy if she ever developed as much sense and cunning as Cecilie von Spitzweg. He went to sleep feeling guilty for this thought.
---
There was something unsettling in Wolfram’s chest. Something was spinning in his head as well. His mouth was full of saliva. Brushing over his forehead with his fingers, Wolfram opened his eyes. It was dark everywhere and he was disoriented, but the scents around told him that it was his own room.
Something clanged loudly and rolled over the floor, clattering, when Wolfram stumbled out of his bed. He cursed loudly, lost his footing and fell backwards, his back meeting the mattress and a piece of hard wood.
In the darkness, varicolored shapes started dancing in front of his eyes. Wolfram cursed again and groped around with his hand for that clanging thing, which his fading common sense had identified as someone’s purposely left pail.
---
“How long has it been like this?” Gwendal asked.
Wolfram wasn’t certain if he was asking him or Gisela. Then, he realized that maybe Gwendal didn’t know which one of them to ask because Gisela was busy making a potion and he was half-conscious.
“He said that at the time it was still dark outside,” Gisela answered before Wolfram could open his mouth.
Gwendal’s head turned to the window involuntary. The curtains were drawn, but the bright light of summer midday was still seeping through. “Why didn’t you go looking for Gisela?” he asked with annoyance present in his voice.
Wolfram didn’t know what to answer so he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his side and retched again.
Gwendal frowned and turned away from the sight of his youngest brother’s head hovering over the pail, getting rid of more bile. As far as he had seen, there was nothing else in the pail, only yellow bile. Gwendal rubbed his temples in worrisome irritation.
“How much has he drunk?” he asked.
“He doesn’t remember.”
“Right,” Gwendal grunted out, not surprised at all. He tried to recall the previous night and how many glasses there had been around the bench. “A bottle of wine,” he said. “Maybe more.”
Spent, Wolfram shifted back into the bed. For now, the swimming in his head had stopped. This was the first time he had gotten so drunk and he thought he had deserved the outcome. He had known perfectly well how this kind of thing ends. Or, maybe, this was the punishment for how he had been maliciously happy about Yuuri’s broken arm while watching him flirt with those women. Damn that Yuuri! Damn him, damn everything and damn himself for still holding onto Yuuri! And damn, he was tired.
“I tried giving him medicine, but everything comes back up. This should pass in a few hours, though.”
Gwendal watched Wolfram sigh then close his eyes and try to catch a wink of sleep. The blond must be exhausted after the sleepless night. Wolfram rarely drank, he rather tasted; this was the reason for this mess.
“Alright, just tell me if anything changes,” Gwendal said.
“Yes, Sir, I will.”
oOoOo_About a week later_oOoOo
Wolfram watched the last of guests’ carriage leave. Finally, finally, the castle was free of outsiders. Maybe one shouldn’t call his uncle an outsider but he had never gotten along with the man very well. Waltorana had even stayed for a whole week. Very likely, he had done so to see if there really was no chance of his nephew and the king renewing their relationship. Waltorana hadn’t said anything to him about annulling the engagement, but, obviously, he wasn’t content with it either: the marriage would have considerably strengthened their position amongst other noble houses.
Wolfram turned away from the window and looked over at Gwendal, who was sitting behind his desk, reading the account for this month he had been delivered by his lieutenant general.
It had taken Wolfram a week to regain his strength. He still didn’t feel back to normal. Gisela had explained that this was because his body had lost many minerals and vitamins. He had no idea what vitamins were, but minerals sounded more familiar, even if he wondered how those could have gotten into him – last time he checked he hadn’t been eating lumps of copper for breakfast.
The blond marched over to Gwendal’s desk. He cleared his throat to get his brother’s attention. Gwendal snorted something out to acknowledge his presence but didn’t cease studying the account. Wolfram stood still for a few moments then took the chair opposite his brother’s desk.
“I know you’ll probably be against it,” he started. “But I’d like to join one of the squads heading for patrol. I think it’s about time I started my military career.”
Slowly, Gwendal lowered the account onto the desk. His youngest brother was watching him expectantly. Gwendal pushed the account over the desk in a jerky movement. Anger bubbled inside of him and he opened his mouth to tell Wolfram that he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life, but then he closed it as he gave this some more thought. Alright, he knew that Wolfram was doing this only to run way from Yuuri. Yes, Wolfram didn’t have much experience in military service and he would find it very hard to obey someone else’s orders. And, true enough, it was dangerous as well. However, there was more to this: it was certain that, for the time being, Wolfram really needed to stay away from Yuuri; Wolfram was in need of half a year of military experience; it would be better if Wolfram went on patrol now, while it was still summer instead of late autumn or winter when it was easy to catch pneumonia or other diseases; the experience would be good for Wolfram, too. But the main point was that now, while Wolfram was still sharing his plans with him, he could continue to guide and advise. There was no way to guarantee that Wolfram wouldn’t just take off without telling anything to anyone. And maybe, just maybe, Wolfram would get bored to death with the patrol and would come back in a week or two.
“Alright, no problem with that. So, where do you want to go?” Wolfram was staring at him. His brother’s astonishment was so obvious that Gwendal had to suppress his laughter. “Where to?” Gwendal repeated.
Wolfram stuttered out something incomprehensible and Gwendal quickly realized that his brother had not thought about it that far. Very likely, he had only readied himself to fight for his wish one step at a time, the first one being the need to get him to warm up to the idea of him going away. Now, Wolfram was fervently trying to figure out where the catch was.
Gwendal was confident that Wolfram would soon make the appropriate conclusions. He doubted Wolfram was going to be very happy with them.
“Shall I just randomly point with my finger on the map?” Gwendal asked sarcastically, as the blond was still silent, calculating. Gwendal opened one of his drawers and retrieved a rolled up map. He unrolled and straightened it on his desk. “Hmm…”
“Here,” Wolfram’s finger shot out unexpectedly, thumping against the paper.
Gwendal inspected Wolfram’s finger then, when his brother removed it, concentrated on the place it had pointed. Lesa. He resisted the urge to grin. Wolfram must have pointed randomly, just to regain his balance and make sure he was the one to decide instead of Gwendal. The best thing about this was that Wolfram would rather die than admit that.
“Splendid, private von Bielefeld!” Gwendal said. “I’ll send over a message saying you’ll be arriving… Let’s say in two weeks’ time?”
Frowning mistrustfully, Wolfram checked the place his finger had been on a moment ago. He cursed loudly in his head, realizing where he had pointed. True, the fort was far away from the capital, just as he had wished, but nothing, absolutely nothing ever happened on that frontier. The neighboring Kingdom of Kardera wasn’t their ally, but it wasn’t their enemy, either. They didn’t even have any trade contracts with it. It just stayed there, on the other side of the sea, like a large piece of rock, unmovable and useless.
Wolfram looked disappointed and angry with himself but this didn’t bother Gwendal in the slightest. “There’s no need to be so upset. It’s only for six months unless you decide otherwise,” he said meaningfully. Then, he could not help teasing Wolfram: “I heard that the scenery is beautiful there and that there are a few good fishing spots; be sure to vary your ration when you’re off duty.”
If Wolfram’s glare could turn physical, it would have burned a hole in the map. But in a few moments his anger dissipated. One way or another, he had reached his objective – he was getting away from Yuuri.
oOoOo_Four days later_oOoOo
Yuuri watched the squad of assembled soldiers move out of the yard. They belonged to different Shin Makoku lands and he couldn’t even see Wolfram in the middle of varicolored uniforms. Ah, there he was – now he could see the blond head protruding over someone’s shoulder. The blond was too far for him to see whether he was happy to go or upset. Soon, he was swallowed by the uniforms again.
The king’s eyes saw the backs of the men exit the gate. Then, he returned to his desk and took his chair. Thinking, he lowered his hand onto the desk and, habitually, wanted to cross his fingers. Then, he remembered that his left arm was still in a sling. With his good hand, he prodded the ballpoint pen that was lying on the desk next to the documents he had been reading about ten minutes ago. He liked the luxury of his ink-free hands.
“This is my fault, isn’t it?” he stated, without raising his eyes off the pen.
Conrart’s face acquired a painful expression. “No, of course not, Your Majesty.” He hesitated for a few moments then gave his king a tentative smile. “It’s just that Wolfram needs some time to sort his thoughts out.”
Yuuri rolled the pen over the surface of his desk. “He can perfectly well sort them out here. He doesn’t need to go to another side of the country for that.”
Conrart’s smile became strained. “Well, Your Majesty, I would presume it’s still somewhat painful for him.”
Now Yuuri’s thumb was clicking the pen on and off rather aggressively.
“Your Majesty,” Conrart tried cautiously, “surely you knew that the termination of the engagement would affect your relationship?”
“Of course, I knew,” Yuuri said with indignation. “But I had hoped that somehow…” he fell silent, the pen stopping its incessant clicking as well. “That somehow it wouldn’t come to this,” he finished. “He rarely ever seemed affected any other time when I would…” he trailed off again.
“…not accept his attention?” Conrart offered.
Yuuri understood that his godfather was good at pretending to be nonchalant about this. Now he could tell that deep down Conrart was getting angry with him. Conrart was right – what was the point of fussing over it now when it was already over? This conversation made no sense. If Wolfram had decided that he didn’t want to see his face for awhile then let it be so. As long as it helped Wolfram…to forget, it was fine.
Yuuri’s thumb started torturing the pen again. Probably this was where the problem lay – he didn’t want to be forgotten. There was nothing fine about Wolfram forgetting him.
Yuuri stared at the sheet of paper before his eyes. “I’d like to be informed how he’s getting on there.”
“Probably he will be reporting directly to the general, Your Majesty.”
Yuuri frowned. Gwendal was partly blaming him for what had happened with Wolfram. This meant that whenever asked about how Wolfram was doing, Gwendal would answer a short, clipped “fine”. “Fine” wasn’t informative at all. It would just mean that Wolfram wasn’t dead yet.
“I’ll try to talk to him, Your Majesty,” Conrart said, seeing the expression on Yuuri’s face.
Yuuri let go of the pen and lowered it to the desk. He doubted it would work. The relationship between Wolfram and Gwendal was a strange combination of brotherly-parental affection. Gwendal was the one Wolfram would always turn to for advice. Gwendal was also the one who taught Wolfram everything he knew. And Gwendal was also the one who had the most authority in the house – his word was final.
And because Gwendal’s word was final, it didn’t matter that the rest of the house didn’t agree with Wolfram’s idea to just piss off to the “back of beyond” to mend his broken heart. Yuuri had seen Gwendal and Conrart arguing, but it was to no avail. Wolfram had decided, Gwendal gave his blessing, and nothing else mattered.
Keeping in mind that Gwendal was very protective of Wolfram, this had come as a complete surprise. But when Yuuri thought deeper about it, maybe it shouldn’t have been such a big surprise after all. Gwendal simply wanted to make sure that Wolfram recovered as fast as possible and that the place where Wolfram had chosen to go to was relatively benign. But still…
Yuuri glanced at Conrart, who seemed to have fallen into the depths of his own thoughts. Somehow, he instinctively knew that Conrart had wanted a different relationship with Wolfram, similar to what Gwendal and Wolfram had together. Yuuri had seen how he watched the two interact. Conrart always smiled, but sometimes there was something bitter in that smile.
Yuuri suspected that this went even deeper. Conrart was his godfather, but he could tell that, sometimes, there was something strange about the way Conrart was babying him. It was very likely that Conrart’s unfulfilled expectations were manifesting in their relationship. Wolfram and he had been about the same age when he first met Conrart. Conrart was giving Yuuri what Wolfram didn’t want. And now Yuuri was receiving twice the affection.
From Conrart, Yuuri averted his eyes back to his desk and to the pen. He took it in his hand. If nothing else, he could at least be allowed to break a pen in protest of Wolfram’s departure.
---
Wolfram jolted out of his slumber as he felt himself starting to slide sideways. He righted himself on his horse again. It wasn’t Kerda – he had left Kerda at home and was issued a horse from the army. The sun was setting slowly and the horse, having to carry him and a few packs with food, a tent and clothes, was growing tired.
Wolfram yawned and looked around. The expressions on the other soldiers’ faces suggested that his horse was not the only one tired. Keeping in mind that recently Wolfram hadn’t been riding for long periods of time, he was handling the beginning of the journey far better than a handful of other soldiers. However, he was also beginning to feel that his thighs and backside were starting to lead independent lives of their own.
Wolfram was relieved when the sergeant had finally decided that the meadow they were crossing was as good as any other place and gave the order to make camp. Soon, they were done with the task, took care of their horses, and ate dinner around the fire.
Wolfram noticed that the other soldiers were staying away from him. He had expected a similar reaction – he was nobility after all. He doubted they were happy that he was going to spend half a year together with them. Most of them would probably opt out of such a privilege if given a choice. They didn’t have a choice, however. Neither did he. If he wanted to advance any further, he had to serve six months in the army.
Six months of duty was the requirement for the men who wanted to pass the examination to receive a promotion from a private and then advance further up the chain of command. Wolfram had confidence that it was within his limits to pass all the required tests right up to the captain’s position. He wasn’t as certain about the higher ranks – he didn’t know how he would deal with practical battle simulations where he would have to command thousands of men and come up with strategies of overwhelming the enemy be it on land or the sea.
In fact, Wolfram hadn’t thought much about this after finishing the Military Academy in the von Christ lands. He had considered it but then came the unrest with the neighboring countries. And, after that, Yuuri showed up and Wolfram simply had no time. Later, he hadn’t given a thought about getting a military rank either. He had soldiers from the von Bielefeld lands at his beck and call any time he wished. However, while he was the one to say where and what he wanted them to do, there was always someone else telling them <i>how</i> to do it. He had the inborn right to exercise his power over them but not the rank.
Six months. From across the fire that had been made to warm some tea, Wolfram looked at the twenty men sitting near it. There were a lot of young privates just like him. The border with Kardera was probably the best starting point for all privates. Not counting a few reports of rabid animals, it was relatively calm and peaceful.
There were a few older soldiers as well, but they were in the minority. From their relaxed postures and attitudes, Wolfram could tell that serving was going to be a breeze. He hoped that, with time, the other soldiers would warm up to him as well. Half a year was a long time and it was best to maintain friendly relationships. He wasn’t a person who constantly required social contact, but he didn’t want to feel like an outsider either. Nobody wanted that.
Wolfram slapped a mosquito on the back of his neck. He grimaced at the sticky feeling between his fingers; the insect had been pumped with blood already. He wiped his hand on the grass. The men were already drifting off to their tents. Wolfram looked at the three soldiers he was going to share his tent with. One of them stood up and walked to the bushes a bit farther from the fireplace. A soft sigh and a trickle of passing water could be heard. Wolfram grimaced again – oh, the pleasures of nature.
The blond knew that he was somewhat spoiled. And he could guess that people suspected this and that this was going to be one of the reasons why other soldiers were going to stay away from him. He understood as well that most of these young men grew up in packed houses sharing their beds with their brothers and sisters, working in the fields until dusk. There was no time for them to become well-mannered. Being well-mannered didn’t put food on their table.
Once the man was done, not wanting to get caught into a mass of other soldiers doing their personal business, Wolfram was first to walk over to the bushes. He chose a much farther spot from the fire but still, while unbuttoning his trousers, he could hear hushed voices behind him. This was annoying. He had better start looking for friends and fast, while firm groups hadn’t formed yet.
The rest of the week’s trek to the fort was spent just like this – traveling by day and resting at night. The squad also happened to ride into a storm and the last day of the journey was spent in rain. By the time the squad reached the destined fort in the village of Lesa, despite their trench coats, they were drenched to the skin, shivering with cold, and nearly falling off their saddles from fatigue.
They were led into the barracks and shown around. Later, they were assigned their bunks and linens, and the newcomers were informed that they were expected to come to tomorrow’s meeting where they would be briefed on their duties. After that, they had dinner and were left to do whatever they wanted.
The white sheet of rain falling on blurred shapes was all Wolfram could see through the windows. The village was silent in the murky weather. He doubted he would go sightseeing even if he could. He was too tired for that. He was just glad they had finally reached the fort. If they were going to have some free time tomorrow, he thought of going exploring with one or two of the lads he had befriended during the journey.
Tbc
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Bloom