Love and War

And now, about chapter four: Let me just warn you now… I had to take a lot of creative liberties with this chapter. Since all of the Aristocrats were not shown or mentioned throughout the anime, and since I’d wanted to put them in here for one reason or another, I sort of had to make them up. I’ve only seen the anime and have never read the novels, so I have no idea if any of them are mentioned elsewhere. I would have scoured the ’net for information, but to be honest… Can we say, “Mikage is lazy.” Not to mention busy as hell with school work. Sorry!! If anyone knows something about any of the Aristocrats, I’d really appreciate the information, and I’ll go in and change things if I have to.

And… I also have no idea who Wolfram’s father is or what happened to him, but no one in the anime ever said he was dead, so I’m just gonna assume that he’s alive, just not… there. I’d debated on throwing him in here so early in the story, but I’d wanted to use him a bit later so I figured I’d go ahead and introduce him now along with everyone else.

So… yeah…

Onwards to chapter four, in which the Aristocrats gather and Wolfram’s father is introduced…

Love and War
by Mikage

Chapter Four

One and a half weeks passed by after the date of the wedding had been announced, until only three more days remained before the Aristocrats would give their blessings.

Yuuri was nervous. Murata had sat down with him to discuss how the ceremony would go, but even his dark haired friend’s reassurances could not assuage his feelings of anxiety. It was an ancient ceremony, one that had been conducted since the founding of the Ten Aristocrats, where they would come together as a council and approve or disprove of the King’s (or Queen’s) prospective spouse. Each Aristocrat was given the right to say what they thought of the union, and if half of them disagreed and found fault with the person who would serve by the king’s side then the wedding was forsaken and the engagement terminated.

The current monarch was worried about something like that taking place, for even though the Aristocrats had long since worked together to protect Shin Makoku and it’s people, there had been fighting amongst them recently on the account of encroaching warfare. There were quite a few who were angry at the king for not doing something as soon as the problems with Shimeron had arisen, and Yuuri wondered if they may end up refusing to approve of the wedding out of spite. He’d already heard his three advisors whispering to each other about that possibility, and it made him wonder if the teamwork and companionship among the Aristocrats was falling apart.

He hated to think of what would happen to the country if such a thing were to happen. They’d already narrowly avoided a civil war once before. He didn’t want to chance starting another one, especially when they had so many other problems to deal with presently. They couldn’t afford to be side tracked by personal issues and pointless bickering.

With the fall of Franshire, it had become glaringly obvious that Shimeron had no intention of giving up on their plans to destroy the Mazoku and anyone who supported them; not that they’d doubted Belal and his desires before - having one of their allies taken over just made it seem all the more real, and knowing that others were in danger only increased Yuuri’s worry and anticipation. Antoine and Laila had managed to escape and seek shelter in Cavalcade, but it was only a matter of time before they’d be in danger again. Cavalcade could very well be next.

If they could have, Yuuri had been told that he and Wolfram would have already been married, but because of the ceremonies that needed to be conducted the soonest it could all be completed was in the span of three to four weeks. The eight Aristocrats who did not reside under the roof of Blood Pledge Castle needed to be summoned and given the time required to make their way to the capital, as it would take some a few days to cross the distance, and others could not come right away on account of their respective duties. He’d only met two of the Aristocrats before, four if he counted Gwendal and Günter, but he knew that they were all busy, especially in times like these.

Lord Stoffel von Spitzweg was the first to arrive, a middle aged man Yuuri had grown used to seeing off and on through the years, along with his personal guard Raven. The three brothers had never been fond of their uncle Stoffel and his devious ways, Yuuri knew, but the black haired youth didn’t really mind him too much. Sure, he’d been the one to instigate the war with the humans in the past, and Yuuri hadn’t been too keen on being kidnapped shortly after beginning his reign as king, but Stoffel hadn’t really tried much of anything since (at least not anything that had endangered his life… well, not too badly, at least), and now seemed as if he were willing to work with the new Demon King.

Lady Winifred von Yale was the second to make her way to the palace, a cold, austere woman Yuuri had been nervous about meeting. Winifred was probably one of the older looking Mazoku he’d met in the last four years, with hair gone completely gray and wrinkles replacing the youthfulness of her face. She and Lady Celi did not seem to be on good terms, which Yuuri found to be quite odd. The blonde haired former queen was usually extremely friendly, sometimes overly so, and she wasn’t one to ignore their guests, whoever they happened to be. But Winifred and Celi hardly even looked at one another, much less conversed or gossiped together.

When he had questioned this, he’d been informed by Günter that the two women had had a falling out of sorts during the time that Cecilie had married her second husband, when the gray haired woman had insulted the queen and questioned her loyalties. In truth, Dan Hiri had allied himself with the Mazoku and had been well liked by their people and more than half of the Aristocrats, despite his human blood. But there had been a select few who’d refused to accept the man, and that had truly been the beginning of the animosity among the council members. Winifred had obviously not gotten over the incident yet and avoided Celi as much as possible.

Yale had also been one of the territories who’d recently pushed for a war. Winifred had supported the last war and claimed that nothing would be solved this time around unless they took the same course of action. She’d sat with Yuuri many times since her arrival, attempted to talk him into signing a declaration and going after Shimeron before they could do any more damage. Yuuri promised her each time that he would do all that he could, stating that war was really his last resort, but that she should trust that he thought of nothing but the safety of his people when making such decisions. That seemed to satisfy her for a while, but the king worried about losing her confidence.

Lord Mikhail von Karbelnikoff arrived next, and Yuuri was relieved to see a friendly face. Being Anissina’s older brother, he’d expected another eccentric inventor, only to find that Mikhail was much calmer than his younger sibling. He had the same flaming red hair, cut short instead of flowing down his back, and light brown eyes instead of Anissina’s shocking blue. He seemed to be a very serene man; Yuuri had yet to hear him raise his voice, and he spoke nothing but good things about his king and country, refuting the idea of war and claiming that they must trust and follow their king in every decision.

Mikhail tried his hardest to get along well with everyone. He was often seen absorbed in a friendly debate with Gwendal or in serious discussion with Günter, bouncing ideas off of one another but never allowing themselves to be drawn into a shouting match. He sparred with Conrad in the afternoons and indulged Lady Celi with polite conversation during the daily meals, knowing exactly what to do and say to flatter her without seeming inappropriate or out of line. Most importantly, he knew how to control his little sister, and prevented her from snatching someone out of the blue and making them her guinea pig for the day.

Then came Lord Julius von Mannheim, who had served as one of Shin Makoku’s generals for the last fifty years, and who had worked closely with Adalbert before the large blond man had left the country. Julius had supported Stoffel’s insistence on going to war the last time, but had not approved of the way in which it had been fought, resulting in horrible battles that had seen the near destruction of both the human and the Mazoku armies. This time around he seemed equally divided, not wanting to return to those dark times but willing to fight and lead the troops should it eventually come to that.

He did, however - despite his loyalties to his country - have a few problems with some of the other Aristocrats, ones that prevented him from being able to speak with them civilly. His and Stoffel’s friendship had been strained, and he did not get along with the current head of Grantz at all. He and Winifred had never been exceptionally close, nor was he on good terms with the territory of Bielefeld, often showing his frustrations in a scathing look in Wolfram’s direction. Yuuri had tried to ask what had made Julius so angry at the von Bielefeld’s that he’d even take that anger out on someone with such loose connections with them, but no one had bothered to provide him with any sort of answer, and even Murata didn’t seem to have a clue.

Yuuri assumed it had something to do with the war more than twenty years ago, and he was starting to think of it as the cause of everything that was going on now, both with Shimeron and among the Mazoku themselves. He was beginning to feel much as he had when he’d first arrived in this world, back when everything had been going on with Geigen Huber. He was being left in the dark again and he didn’t like it, confusion setting in with each new arrival as he tried to figure things out on his own. No one seemed willing to tell him much of anything. Even Wolfram was strangely tight-lipped as the days went on, when he was usually more likely than anyone else to talk about the previous conflict.

Next to arrive was Lord Odell von Wincott, the loving father of the late Suzannah Julia, whom Yuuri had met once before. Though the young dark eyed king sometimes felt a little odd around the older gray haired man (knowing that he possessed his dead daughter’s soul), Odell was still a good friend, someone he could rely upon as a peaceful presence. He didn’t seem resentful at all about his daughter’s sudden demise, and appeared reluctant to dwell on it, remembering Julia as she had been and blaming no one for her tragic death.

Ladies Marlena von Grantz and Griselda von Hassel came together, each with their noses stuck high in the air, making a big to-do about how they’d had to leave their respective castles on such short notice. He’d been told by his lavender haired teacher that Adalbert’s younger sister had taken over as head of their territory following Adalbert’s betrayal and that the Grantz family had split down the middle due to the previous lord’s actions. Half of them supported him in his decision to abandon the crown and the Mazoku, while the other half considered his desertion an act of treason and refused to approve of his return to his rightful place.

Marlena, who possessed Adalbert’s sharp, sky blue eyes but had dark brown hair instead of dirty blonde, was one of the angry relatives, a severe, stern woman who hadn’t been pleased at the new king’s decision to grant her disgraceful older brother clemency. Yuuri had been warned to be wary around her, not only by his advisors, but by Adalbert himself, who had sent him a private message on the matter after receiving word of the upcoming wedding. Marlena hadn’t caused any problems as of yet, but the young king could tell that she wasn’t happy with him. Her constantly narrowed eyes made that fact quite obvious.

Lady Griselda was even worse, and while Winifred von Yale was silent in her hostility towards Cecilie von Spitzweg, the head of Hassel had no qualms with voicing her dislike, though Yuuri truly thought she was simply jealous of Lady Celi’s beauty. Griselda had had just as many children as the previous ruler, but her figure was not nearly as perfect. She was a plump older woman, shorter than the blonde bombshell, with a pudgy face and thin, dull light brown hair that fell out of it’s elaborate styles after only a few hours. Her face was often caked with powder, her attempts to hide the wrinkles that were beginning to form, and her lip stick was just a shade too bright for someone of her coloring.

She was not a nice woman at all, continuously complaining about whatever happened to cross her mind, ordering the poor maids around as if she owned the place. Yuuri tried to be pleasant around her, but her whining voice truthfully grated on his nerves, as did her insults towards his predecessor and her half human son. Griselda shared Lady von Yale’s disgust for the former queen’s second husband, and since the man himself was no longer alive they took their hatred out on Conrad. The brown haired soldier ignored them and didn’t seemed as if he minded their cruel words, but Yuuri didn’t like it, often taking their insults personally, as he was half human as well.

Having nine of the Ten Aristocrats under the same roof for more than a few days was proving to be very difficult. Breakfast, lunch and dinner were quiet affairs, now spent in near silence. Even Greta’s delightful chatter didn’t start until the least friendly of the adults had excused themselves from the table, and Lady Celi was strangely subdued. Wolfram hardly looked up from his plate and Günter only spoke when talking to the maids. Gwendal and Conrad barely said a word, and Yuuri himself was left fidgeting in his chair, glancing around uncomfortably. The tension was thick in the air, almost suffocating, so oppressing that Yuuri was actually happy to escape to his paperwork.

The only Aristocrat who had yet to arrive was Bielefeld, the one that gave the king the most worries, not because he was expecting any sort of problems from them - though he’d been warned that that was certainly a possibility - but because they were his fiancé’s family. Ever since he and Wolfram had gotten engaged, no one from Bielefeld had come to visit, nor had they sent any form of congratulations. Wolfram himself rarely spoke about them, and when Yuuri asked he always replied with short answers of one or two words, clipped and uncaring. Apparently he wasn’t very fond of the people he’d gotten his name from.

In the past, the Bielefeld’s had used his blond friend to represent their territory at important gatherings and celebrations, so that they wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of traveling from their estate to the capital, or sending someone else to fill in for them. Wolfram living at Blood Pledge Castle had always been very convenient to them, but now that he was marrying the king they could no longer use him in such a way. He wouldn’t be a representative of Bielefeld anymore, but of Shin Makoku as a whole. The black haired youth had to wonder if they were at all annoyed to be losing such a valuable asset, and if they would approve of this wedding so easily.

He’d heard talk around the castle that the Bielefeld’s had become a quiet, secretive bunch over the years, and that their lord, Wolfram’s uncle Auberon, rarely left their manor. They’d been pushing for war since the hostilities between Shin Makoku and Shimeron had first started, so he expected the old man to act similarly to how some of the others were - angry and trying their hardest to sway his decision. Yuuri had also heard from Doria - as the honey blonde haired woman had been rushing down the hall with a basket of dirty bed linens - that Auberon did not like his nephew at all and had even considered not allowing him to carry the family name.

“Why?” Yuuri had asked his fiancé late that night as they’d been changing for bed, truly curious about Wolfram’s family, noting how different it was from his own.

“‘Why’ what?” the blond had replied, appearing confused, though Yuuri knew the other boy was aware of what he was referring to and was probably being evasive simply because he didn’t feel like talking about it.

“Why would your uncle not want you to have the Bielefeld name?”

Wolfram snorted, as if it didn’t really matter, though he seemed more uncomfortable at that moment than anything else and was trying his best to hide it. “He doesn’t like my mother, that’s why.”

“But she was married to his brother, right?”

“So? Just because my father married my mother doesn’t mean the rest of his family liked her.”

And that was the end of that conversation, as Wolfram had quickly escaped to bid Greta good night before the king could try to ask him anything else.

Yuuri wasn’t really looking foreword to meeting the blond’s uncle, especially after seeing how some of the other council members reacted around one another, and he could only hope that the man wasn’t planning on causing he and his fiancé any trouble. They already had enough stress in their lives right now; a vicious relative was definitely not what they needed to calm their frazzled nerves. Just the thought that Auberon was coming was enough to have Wolfram on edge, and the younger looking boy became extra snappy as the days went on, his moods fluctuating wildly.

Before Auberon had sent word that he was coming, and after Yuuri and his lovely fiancé had had their confrontation that night a week and a half ago in their bedroom, Wolfram had calmed down immensely. Yuuri still felt guilty for putting him through this, but it helped him feel just a little better to see Wolf acting normally again. The Demon King was sure that the other boy was still hurt, but he rarely showed it. He actually looked pleased a majority of the time, like he was happy about the approaching wedding, when they’d be bound together forever and their engagement would no longer be threatened by the pretty women of Shin Makoku.

His previous rants of “how could you dance with a woman when you already have me?” had changed to “If I ever catch you with a mistress, I’ll set your crotch on fire and gouge your eyes out.” When such things would have annoyed the darker man before, or make him wince at such vivid imagery, he now found himself laughing and promising that he would remain forever faithful, as long as Wolfram didn’t run off with some handsome demon lord - which had earned him a highly insulted huff in return. The fact that they were teasing one another over something they’d previously been arguing about was a bit weird, but Yuuri preferred it over the shouting and the tears.

He never wanted to see Wolfram cry again, and if going through with this wedding with a smile on his face and acting like it didn’t bother him was what kept his fiancé from becoming that upset, then he’d gladly do it. Seeing Wolfram in tears just once was enough, and he’d do anything - say anything - to keep it from happening again for as long as he lived.

Lady Celi had begun planning the wedding ceremony and the following reception the very night that it had been announced, happy to have such a wonderful celebration to put together, even more so since it was her youngest son that was getting married. The invitations had been written and sent out, with a good number of their prospective guests having already RSVP-ed, stating that they would be more than happy to attend. The previous queen had even managed to drag her son into the room she kept filled with numerous bolts of expensive fabric, forcing him to stand still as she took his measurements, beginning the preparations for what he would be wearing at the wedding, an outfit Yuuri was not allowed to see until the ceremony.

He could only hope that it wasn’t a big, frilly dress.

Greta was absolutely thrilled. She’d literally squealed in delight the moment she’d found out, glad that her two fathers were finally getting married, regardless of the circumstances. She’d had kisses and hugs ready the morning after she’d been told, which made Yuuri think a little better about the situation. At least they’d be giving Greta a real family, something the young girl hadn’t had since she’d been a small child. The black haired king was happy to see the ecstatic smile on her face, amused by her excitement and elation, and by the speed at which she spoke about the dress her Grandma Celi was having specially made for her.

The entire castle was abuzz with activity, guards and soldiers doing a few last minute repair jobs, the maids cleaning and airing out all of the extra rooms that would house the multitude of guests, the cooks already making plans and experimenting with a few dishes for the meal at the reception. The capital had erupted in celebration when word had spread throughout the townsfolk. The populace seemed almost as jubilant as they’d been when their king had first come, celebrating until the wee hours of the morning. It was almost as if they’d forgotten about the ever present threat known as Shimeron, Gwendal having apparently been right it what he’d said about boosting morale.

But things began to quiet down as the day of von Bielefeld’s arrival drew near, and not just because Auberon was making the trip from his estate to the castle, but because of who was joining him in his travels.

They’d received word just two days ago, around the time that Odell von Wincott had arrived, that Wolfram’s father was coming along with his older brother. His presence wasn’t really necessary until the actual wedding ceremony, and even then it wasn’t required that he attend, but he’d chosen to come a few days early, for what purpose Yuuri didn’t know. He and Auberon would be arriving today.

Wolfram’s happy smile had faltered when he’d heard of his father’s plans, and he’d looked positively shocked, the blood draining from his pretty face, leaving him even paler than usual. Yuuri had only heard his friend talk about his other parent a few times before: once during the search for the Demon Flute, a second time when the subject of the royal crest had been brought up, and then during their confrontation a few days ago. He knew next to nothing about his fiancé’s father besides the fact that he’d been Lady Celi’s third husband, had never seen him, not even during the incident with the Demon Mirror when he’d gone to the past and seen everyone during the last war.

He tried asking Conrad, not wanting to bother Wolfram about it, figuring he wouldn’t want to speak on the subject, but even the brunet hadn’t seemed to want to talk about him, and when Yuuri had questioned him he’d watched in confusion as the friendly smile had completely disappeared form his mentor’s face. His usually warm eyes had hardened and his lips had curved down into a frown, his voice a bit cold as he’d said “He was never a good father,” before going on to quickly change the subject.

The most information he got came from the maids and other servants, who began whispering between themselves and trading rumors about the man who had once served as King by Lady Celi’s side. Some of them spoke of him as a harsh, cruel man, equal to Lord von Voltaire in seriousness, someone to be feared and respected, but never crossed. Others made him sound less frightening, stating that he’d been a very good king in the short amount of time that he’d served, stern but understanding, a good match for the rambunctious, sometimes flighty Demon Queen, a kind and caring husband, regardless of the fact that he’d eventually left his wife and child.

Yuuri didn’t know if he should be looking forward to his visit or not. Most of what everyone else had to say about him made him sound as if he weren’t a very nice man. Wolfram refused to talk about him and a distant look crossed his face whenever he was mentioned. Conrad, also, did not speak on the subject of his step-father, and Gwendal wasn’t much better when it came to giving information, though he appeared more disinterested than angry, like he didn’t care what his youngest brother’s paternal figure chose to do. It all served to make Yuuri quite perplexed, wanting answers but unable to find any.

Until, that is, the day of his arrival.

He should have thought to ask Lady Celi earlier, but he hadn’t wanted to be rude and voice what he thought were rather inappropriate questions, especially to the former queen. He didn’t know much about any of her three husbands, and what he had heard didn’t seem very encouraging. Two of them were dead and two of them had walked out on her, leaving her a widow and a single mother. He knew next to nothing about the details, but he still couldn’t see how the blonde haired woman could possibly smile after all of that. It sounded so sad. He could only imagine what it must be like with all those depressing memories.

“I’m sure you’ll like him, Your Majesty,” Lady Celi said, a soft smile on her face.

He was standing beside her, waiting outside for the last of the Aristocrats to finally arrive. He, the previous queen, Wolfram, Greta, and Conrad had gathered out by the front steps, watching for the carriage that would be appearing any minute now. His fiancé sat sullenly on the last of the stone steps, green eyes staring through the wrought iron gates as Greta chattered on next to him, attempting to cheer the blond haired boy up. Conrad stood off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest, his face devoid of his warm smile as he lost himself in silent contemplation. It was strange to see the brown haired man as he was now, with chocolate eyes narrowed in obvious contempt.

Yuuri looked to Celi when her statement registered in his brain, curious. He’d yet to hear many good things about Wolfram’s father, though he still wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. The black haired king had never been one to judge people by what others said about them, and he wasn’t going to start now. Plenty of people spoke bad things about Stoffel, but Yuuri had long since learned to deal with him, and even considered the man as somewhat of a friend. Just because one person believed something about someone else didn’t make it true.

“Auberon can be a bit overbearing, but my husband was a good man. I met him when I was a child - we grew up together - and then we were married a few years after Dan Hiri left,” she explained, green eyes looking up at the blue sky wistfully. “He was such as handsome man! But then all of my husbands were handsome! And my sons are just as attractive, though Wolfram’s the only one who doesn’t take after his father!” She looked thoughtful for a moment, bringing one of her hands up to tap a perfectly manicured nail against one of her cheeks. “Except his temper. I don’t believe he go that from me.”

“What’s his name?” Yuuri asked her, lifting his own hand to nervously tug at his stiff collar. Even after all these years, his daily attire consisted of his old high school uniform.

“Wolfgang von Bielefeld,” she replied with a dreamy smile, eyes sparkling.

“Wolfgang? You mean like Mozart?”

“Who’s Mozart?” the king’s fiancé piped up from where he was sitting, narrowing green orbs at the dark haired boy suspiciously, and Yuuri knew he’d begin to start accusing him of cheating if he didn’t stop that train of thought immediately.

“Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was a famous eighteenth century composer on Earth,” Conrad answered for him, walking over to where Celi and Yuuri were standing. His arms remained crossed and a smile had yet to make it’s way across his face, making him seem more like his older brother than the kindhearted young man he normally was. “You would like his work, Wolfram.”

Yuuri supposed he would. The blond had an affinity for the arts (though he painted as well as a two year old) and could appreciate stuff like Mozart in a way that the dark haired king never could, since it was more similar to the kind of music played in this world than what Yuuri himself listened to.

“So then was Wolfram named after him or something?” he asked, noting the obvious similarities in their names.

“I guess you could say that,” Celi replied. “To tell you the truth, I actually thought I was having a girl. I figured that after two boys I’d finally have a little princess. It was going to name her Else, but then when I gave birth I found out I had another son and since I hadn’t thought up any names for a boy I settled on Wolfram. Wolfgang and Wolfram. I thought it was cute, and since Wolf had always wanted a son it seemed fitting.”

“I think I’d rather be named Else,” Wolfram mumbled, Greta giggling from beside him.

“You don’t mean that!” Celi said with a gasp, turning to gaze down at her youngest child. “Wolfram is a good , strong name. Your father was so excited when you were born!”

“He wasn’t even there,” Conrad reminded her, his frown deepening.

“He had things to attend to,” his mother replied, defending her third husband against her second son. “You know how busy he was.”

“He left before Wolfram was even five years old.”

“He had his reasons for leaving, Conrart, just as your father did,” Celi told him, not seeming to mind the brunet’s obvious dislike. “He had his duties and I had mine. I don’t blame or resent him, nor do I regret the time I spent with him. He’s been as good of a father as he could, given the circumstances. He’s a good man,” she said again, “and a hero.”

“You call what he did in Bastille heroic?” the brown haired soldier wondered, and it was clear that although his mother might think so, he most definitely did not.

Cecilie glanced up at him, frowning sadly. “I think if you’d let him explain what happened and why you would understand. You had just gotten back from Lutenberg at the time. There are a lot of things about that incident that might make you reconsider if you’d just talk to him about it.”

“There is no excuse for his actions, and the Courts were wrong not to hold him accountable for it.”

“Conrart...”

Yuuri was rightly confused, growing a bit agitated as he continued to listen to them without any idea of what they were talking about. He looked to Wolfram to see his reaction but found the blond staring off into space again, his face blank of any real emotion. Greta was looking between all of those who were present, just as in the dark as her black haired father, and when their eyes met he could do nothing but shrug. He hadn’t a clue as to where Bastille was, could only assume that it was a town or village, nor had he any guess as to what happened there and what the Courts had to do with anything.

From what they were saying, the only thing he thought it could be was a battle near the end of the war, though he couldn’t imagine what could have possibly happened there that one person would deem heroic and another would think the parties involved should be punished for. Perhaps Wolfgang von Bielefeld had broken some kind of law, or caused as many deaths as Geigen Huber was said to have. Yuuri knew there were plenty of people who would hold grudges over something like that. It had taken two decades before anyone was willing to forgive Hube. Maybe it was the same with Wolfgang.

He’d learned through his lessons with Günter that those who committed crimes within the boundaries of Shin Makoku were taken before the Court in order to undergo a trial and receive punishment for their transgressions - should they be found guilty - and that the Courts comprised of the Ten Aristocrats, as well as a few other high standing members of the Imperial Court. He’d heard that the King (or Queen) had a certain amount of influence over the verdict, as he suspected often happened in governments such as their own, so Lady Celi’s opinion on the matter could be different from her sons based on her obvious bias and Wolfgang could have easily been acquitted due in part to her influence.

“What kind of duties does he have?” the king broke into the conversation again, fishing for information. He didn’t want to come right out and ask what they were referring to, since he figured it wasn’t something they’d willingly speak to him about (like most things concerning the war), but he still wanted to try and put the pieces of the puzzle together, even if he had to do it himself. “Is he in the army?”

“He’s a captain in the navy,” Celi beamed a smile his way, evidently still very fond of her third husband, their separation having not changed her feelings in the least, though she’d since moved on to other men.

“Really? So he mans a ship then, right?”

“Yes. The HMS Odette.”

“Hmm,” Yuuri made a thoughtful noise, intrigued. Then he turned to look at his fiancé, one eyebrow raised in question. “Your father’s a navy captain and you get seasick?” he wondered, thinking that with a background like that the other boy should be more accustomed to the ocean.

“Shut up,” Wolfram demanded, cheeks flushing a light rose. “It’s not my fault.”

“Wolfram has a weak stomach,” Greta observed with another giggle.

The young king laughed at his fiancé’s frown, smiling at him good naturedly. “And you call me a wimp.”

“That’s because you are one,” Wolfram shot back.

“Then what does that make you?”

“A wimp-ette,” their daughter offered teasingly.

“Or a wuss,” Yuuri said, teasing also, his smile widening as Wolfram’s frown morphed into a pout as both his fiancé and daughter ganged up on him. “King Wimp and Prince Wuss. Don’t we make the most un-intimidating royal couple ever? It’s a miracle anyone ever takes us seriously.”

He was joking, of course. There were plenty of people who thought he was an excellent king, though he didn’t really know what he’d done to warrant such praise, and he knew Wolfram would do more than a decent job ruling by him. The kingdom expected great things from them and spoke of them with insurmountable confidence. They’d already been compared to some other famous rulers of the past, with the compassion and understanding of Queen Cecilie, the determination of the 15th Demon King, Bellamy, and the devotion of he Original King himself. They had a lot to live up to, especially by being compared to Shinou.

“Maybe they’d be more inclined to take us seriously if you weren’t such a dimwit,” Wolfram said in return, standing to his feet and crossing his arms defensively, sticking his nose in the air in typical Wolfram fashion. “For a king, you aren’t very bright.”

“At least I’m not girly.”

“I could argue that. I seem to remember a time when you snuck out of Castle Spitzweg dressed as a maid.”

“That was all Yozak’s doing,” Yuuri made sure to remind him. “And I’m not the one who wears pink on a regular basis.”

“I wear what’s flattering.”

The Demon King snorted in amusement. “I don’t know any other guy who’s as concerned about his appearance as you.”

“Who says I’m concerned with it? I simply like to look presentable. Otherwise, I wouldn’t earn any respect from the rest of high society.”

“Maybe you really should have been born a girl,” Yuuri continued to pester him, though he didn’t really mean it.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” the blond mumbled, moving to stand beside him, leaving Greta alone on the bottom step. “Well get over it. You’re stuck with me for the rest of your life, and if I ever catch you with some girl, I swear I’ll-”

“I know, I know,” he said, preventing him from continuing, trying to ignore the rather gruesome mental image that came to mind at his threats. “You don’t have to remind me. Jeez. I promise I won’t cheat on you. Just cool off with the jealous fits, okay?”

“Who says I’m jealous?” Wolfram asked, his pale cheeks pinking again as he looked up at the king with slightly narrowed eyes. “What’s there to be jealous of anyway?”

“I don’t know. The girls in this world seem to think I’m pretty hot,” the black haired boy said, feigning innocence. In truth, he didn’t know why the girls in this world thought of him the way they did. During all his years on earth, he’d never once had a whole hoard of women swarming around him, although here he suspected it had something to do with his status and his exotic looks. There were very few people in this world with both black hair and eyes. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he and Murata were the only ones.

“They don’t think you’re attractive,” Wolfram stressed the last word, disliking his use of such common language. “They want you because you’re the king.”

“But even people who didn’t know that I’m the king seem to think that, like when I’m in disguise.”

He didn’t know why he was arguing with his fiancé on the topic of his supposed good looks, or how they’d even gotten into this conversation in the first place. What he did know was that he found it strangely amusing to cause his friend’s face to flush, and that it was actually great fun to tease the other boy. It was weird that he felt this way, he knew, but since he could tell that Wolfram wasn’t really angered by it he went on doing it, the blond looking a little pleased to be receiving some much desired attention.

“Don’t you think I’m hot?” he asked, completely on a whim.

Wolfram’s face instantly went red, and he looked at a loss for words. Greta was still giggling from her place on the bottom step, large brown eyes glued to her two adoptive fathers as she watched the show, finding it very entertaining. Conrad had finally cracked a smile and he had to struggle to hold back his light laughter, turning to the side so that he wouldn’t start chuckling at the startled, embarrassed look on his younger brother’s face, knowing Wolfram did not take being laughed at lightly. The blond seemed almost humiliated, unable to say anything to deny or agree with what Yuuri had just asked him.

Yuuri himself was feeling greatly accomplished. However odd he thought it was to have another man chasing after him, he had to admit that there was a part of him that liked the fact that he could get the other boy to react in such a way. Usually it was he who ended up being flustered, stuttering as he tried to explain himself, and it was a little thrilling to know that he could do the same thing to Wolfram, take all of his fiancé’s control away and leave him looking so startled. It was so much easier to read the emotions in his eyes this way, since he was no longer guarding them as carefully as he usually tried to. He was too surprised to do so.

“You’re blushing,” Lady Celi told her youngest son, her sing-song voice lilting as she poked at one of his red cheeks with a slender index finger. “His Majesty is very handsome, isn’t he? You two look wonderful together!” she crowed. “You’ll make all the ladies jealous! I’m sure your wedding night will be exciting!”

“Mother!” Wolfram managed to gasp, the color of his face darkening even more, and even Yuuri found himself blushing at that. He really hoped it wasn’t expected that there be a ‘wedding night.’

“I remember when your father and I first got together,” Celi continued to babble. “Wolfgang was amazing in bed! It was always so passionate and intense! And he knew just the right way to-”

“Mother!” her youngest offspring exclaimed again, effectively cutting her off. “We don’t need to know! How can you be so immodest?!”

“Oh, stop it! How do you think you got here?” she wondered. “A bird didn’t just fly through the window and drop you into my arms, you know. If it were that simple, it wouldn’t have been so scandalous!” She said all this with a smile on her face, as if she rather liked causing a fuss amongst all the stiff and dignified nobles.

“Scandalous?” Yuuri questioned, confused. “But you were married.”

Cecilie shook her head, her smile remaining in place. “I got pregnant before Wolfgang and I were married. It caused quite the uproar within the kingdom.” She giggled, amused by her memories, though Yuuri didn’t think that was something to be proud of. “Brother claimed we had forever tarnished our credibility, since I was still technically married to Dan Hiri, and Wolf was still with his first wife. But once he divorced her and we went before Shinou to ask for permission, it was granted to us. Talk began to die down after that.”

“Mother, do we really need to discuss this?” her blond son asked her, looking like he’d very much like to change to the subject. Yuuri would have done so if he weren’t so curious about the whole thing, realizing that this sort of conversation was quickly making Wolfram uncomfortable.

Could that possibly be one of the causes of his hidden insecurities? Even after Shinou had given permission for Celi and Wolfgang to marry, Yuuri was sure there had still been many people who’d spoken in opposition. He could imagine that some of the Aristocrats had been more than a little peeved about the incident, especially with it coming from their queen and a member of one of their aristocratic families. It seemed like something Lady von Yale would look down upon, and many of the other women who held such upstanding morals.

“I‘m only telling His Majesty the truth. I’m sure you’ve never talked to him about it,” the blonde woman pointed out.

“And there’s a reason for that. It’s not an appropriate topic of discussion.”

“Don’t be so silly,” his mother said with another girlish giggle. Celi seemed to like embarrassing her sons as much as possible - Wolfram especially - which was proving quite simple to do with someone like the prim and proper blond. “It doesn’t matter what anyone else has to say about it. It’s our business; not theirs, and it has nothing to do with you. It’s between your father and me.” She smiled brightly. “It was different than when I was pregnant with your brothers,” the previous queen said, shifting to a related topic. “I was sick all the time for the first few months. You remember, don’t you, Conrart?”

“Yes, Mother,” the brunet replied indulgently.

“And then I felt like I was in labor for day! You were such a stubborn little thing. But you’ve always been like that, haven’t you? That’s not very becoming, you know. Someone so pretty shouldn’t act so grumpy all the time. You’ll end up with wrinkles like Gwen.”

“Mother, please,” Wolfram tried to stop her from going on, but she didn’t seem to hear him, either that or she just chose to ignore him.

The rambunctious former queen only quieted down when the sound of hooves clapping against cobble-stones reached their ears, attracting the attention of every member of their little group and causing five pairs of eyes to look towards the tall wrought iron gates that closed off the wall surrounding Blood Pledge Castle.

Yuuri had almost forgotten that they’d been expecting anyone while he’d been absorbed in friendly bickering and amusing chatter. He’d felt relaxed and contented with all the joking and teasing, only to tense up immediately as he remembered what they were really out there for. His nervousness returned in a matter of seconds, and he lifted a hand to futilely tug at his collar again, swallowing hard as he waited for the sounds to draw closer. The conversation died immediately, almost forgotten as the last of this week’s guests finally arrived in the capital, silence descending over everyone.

Greta came over to stand by her parents, smoothing out the skirt of her pale pink dress, checking to see that all traces of dirt were brushed away as she quickly made herself presentable. Conrad’s smile faltered as he stood between the young human girl and his mother, his back straightening once more. Celi remained smiling, her hands clasped loosely in front of her as she fixed her emerald eyes in the direction of the approaching men, all traces of teasing gone. Wolfram uncrossed his arms and let them fall by his sides, and when Yuuri looked at him out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the blond was just as nervous as he was.

The young demon king watched as two guards - dressed in their standard gray uniforms and armor - moved to open the gates, allowing the regal looking black carriage to cross into the castle’s front lawn. Yuuri felt as if his heart were trying to break out of his chest as the carriage slowed a few yards away from them, the group of brown horses coming to a stop, neighing softly as they came to the end of their long journey. There was a man sitting up front holding the reins, and a small procession of Bielefeld soldiers following behind the medieval vehicle, serving as protection from anyone who may have tried to ambush them along the way.

The black haired man took a deep breath as the middle aged man who’d steered the carriage hopped down from his perch, handing the reins to one of the guards in gray who would see to getting all of the horses into the back stables. The driver moved to the side of the carriage, not looking at any one of the assembled group as he raised a hand to open the door, pulling at the handle until the hatch swung out. He stepped back to allow those who had traveled inside to exit, bowing his head in respect for the two men that he served.

The first to step out was a man who appeared to be around Stoffel’s age, and one who carried himself in much the same way. His steps were sure and confident, and he held his head up high with an arrogance that rivaled Wolfram’s own. His thick sandy blond hair fell to the middle of his back, pulled out of his face and tied off by a strip of white ribbon, a few stray strands of his bangs falling over his aquamarine eyes, enticing him to brush them away with a casual flick of his hand, even more haughtily than the king’s fiancé carried out that same movement.

He had a pleasant enough face, with a few age lines at the corners of his eyes and around the area of his mouth, his full lips set into a deep frown, nose straight and perfectly shaped, with a firm chin and strong jaw. He wasn’t exceptionally tall, lacking a few inches on Gwendal, perhaps even shorter than Conrad, but he had a strong physique, wide shoulders and a thick chest, and big hand that were encased in a pair of white gloves. He was wearing a jacket of light, ice blue lined in ivory, his collar folded down, the gold buttons and chains of his outfit gleaming in the sunlight. His pants were white and completely spotless, black boots rising up to his knees without a trace of dirt on them, and the white cape fastened to his shoulders almost brushed against the ground.

Yuuri was deeply impressed and found himself gawking, even as turquoise eyes glanced over the group of five. “Is that your father?” the king whispered to his fiancé. They didn’t look anything alike, but their posture was somewhat similar, leading Yuuri to wonder if stance was innate or if it was merely the effect of years of military training.

“No,” Wolfram whispered in return, shaking his head imperceptivity, pausing as the second man began to make his exit. “That’s my father.”

This man was a little taller than the first, and he was leaner as well, built like Yuuri’s brown haired guardian. His uniform jacket was of a deeper blue, navy instead of icy, darker even than Wolfram’s cerulean, and the lining on it was black instead of white or gold. Where the other man - Auberon, he assumed - was lacking a weapon of any kind, the blond Mazoku’s father had a sword strapped securely by his side, the hilt decorated with sapphire jewels that sparkled beautifully. He wore white pants and dark boots like his brother, but was missing the gloves and flowing cloak, and the tie holding his shoulder length sandy hair back was black.

It took Yuuri a moment to break his gaze away from the man’s clothes, to look closer and actually see him, and when he did he was shocked by the sight that met his eyes. Wolfgang was still a handsome man in his own right, and years ago, when he and Lady Celi had been married, he had probably been even more so.

Now, however, his physiognomy was marred by scars, one that trailed from his right temple all the way down to his jaw line, another cutting diagonally along his left cheek, and then a third near his left temple that was dreadfully close to his eye. He was frowning as well, though not in distaste as his brother was, but warily, as if he were tired, not from the journey they’d just completed, but by something else.

Yuuri had seen people with scars before, plenty of times. There was the one that cut through Conrad’s eyebrow, plus the countless others the king’s guardian had along his torso. Then there was the one that almost covered the entire left side of Hube’s face, half hidden by an eye patch, that Sir Griesela had received during a misadventure with one of the four boxes. Yuuri himself even had a few, one his left elbow from a fall as a child, and on his right knee from where he’d had to get stitches in Junior High. But all of those were different than the one’s Wolfram’s father possessed. His were almost haunting, a reminder of all the numerous battles he’d surely been in.

He didn’t appear very old. He had no wrinkles like Auberon, but the aura he gave off was of a person who’d lived for a long time, who had regrets that he’d yet to forgive himself for, someone who’d seen things that he’d rather forget. His pale blue-green eyes were not sharp like his brother’s, nor did they contain the fire that so often danced in his son’s emerald orbs. Instead, they seemed almost lifeless, dull, devoid of any laughter, like he knew little happiness. He seemed to be the sort of man who inspired pity in others, someone who’s very stance showed that he’d lead a difficult life, a lasting side effect of war.

What really grabbed Yuuri’s attention, however, and had him staring in wonder, was on the right side of the man’s body. One sleeve of his jacket, which should have covered his right arm, was empty. The entire limb was missing, cut off at the shoulder - amputated most likely, perhaps twenty-four years ago - a far more serious injury than the scars on his face.

Yuuri didn’t know what to think of it. He’d seen Conrad lose an arm before, but it had been restored to him by Shinou. Wolfgang’s was gone forever, leaving him slightly handicapped and relying completely on the one arm he had left. It was difficult to process when the king had rarely seen many people so badly wounded, and it was even more difficult not the stare.

The man who’d driven the carriage successfully captured his attention for a few moments as he closed the door, then stepped foreword to introduce the two Bielefeld brothers. “Your Majesty,” he began, offering the king a respectful bow. “May I present to you, His Excellency Lord Auberon von Bielefeld and Captain Wolfgang von Bielefeld.”

“Your Majesty,” Auberon instantly cut in, stepping towards him in greeting. “It it my pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I deeply regret that we have been unable to meet until now.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Lord von Bielefeld,” Yuuri replied, having to force a smile as nervousness still bubbled inside him. He tried to sound as pleasant as he could, not wanting to seem like a fool. “And, please, don’t feel bad for not being able to make it here times before. I understand that you may have had more important duties to attend to in the Bielefeld territory. I merely thank you for finding the time to be here presently.”

“Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” the older man said, aqua colored eyes trailing to Yuuri’s right, peering down at Greta curiously, completely ignoring everyone else. “And who it this lovely young girl?”

Yuuri couldn’t help the proud smile that crossed his face then. “My daughter, Greta.”

A sandy eyebrow quirked in curiosity. “Daughter?”

The king nodded. “Wolfram and I adopted her four years ago.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Auberon continued, “the human girl. It’s very gracious of you to look after her, Your Majesty. I know men who would not be as compassionate.” Even as he said this, he didn’t sound very impressed. “And what a beautiful child she is. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Princess.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord von Bielefeld,” Greta politely replied, giving a little curtsey.

“And she’s so well mannered,” the tenth Aristocrat observed. “I’m sure she’s taken after you, Your Majesty, and learned from your good influence.”

For some reason, Yuuri was getting some very bad vibes from the older man. He felt as if Auberon didn’t mean anything he’d said so far, and had just spoken the words he assumed would get him on the king’s good side. He didn’t sound very sincere at all, and it was almost as if there was a hint of boredom in his voice.

“Thank you,” Yuuri accepted his praise whether it was genuine or not, though his smile became a bit strained.

“I’m sure she learned nothing in the way of good manners from my nephew,” von Bielefeld said, shooting a glare in Wolfram’s direction. “I understand he can be quite a handful. I’m afraid his mother and older brothers have always been too lenient with the boy, and they’ve indulged him far beyond what is acceptable.”

“‘The boy’ has a name,” Conrad suddenly spoke up, sounding annoyed, though he refused to look at the older man.

Auberon turned to glower at the brown haired soldier. “I don’t believe I asked for your input, Weller,” he spat angrily, before he was turning back to the young king, adopting a look of fake apology. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I would like to be able to speak with you longer, but there are things I must discuss with Lord von Voltaire and the others.”

“I understand,” Yuuri replied, frowning now. He didn’t very much like this man, and was relieved to watch him begin walking towards the front steps.

Auberon stopped when he crossed paths with his blond nephew, who looked up at him defiantly, emerald eyes glaring darkly in apparent hatred. His uncle appeared unimpressed and stared down at Wolfram as if he were nothing more than a dirty peasant. “Don’t glare at me, boy,” he said almost threateningly. “You’re not married yet,” he added, as if to remind the smaller male that he still outranked him, and even held a bit of control over him as the lord of Bielefeld.

Yuuri heard his fiancé growl softly as the older man finally made his retreat, and the king sighed lightly as he disappeared inside the castle. He looked around then to see everyone else still standing there - except the driver, who’d gone to help the guards and soldiers with the horses and carriage. The others had all been pretty much silent while he and Auberon had been chatting, with the exception of Greta’s greeting and Conrad’s short utterance. None of the other two had said a word, and Wolfgang had hung behind, waiting for his brother to leave before stepping foreword.

Once Lord Auberon was gone, most of the tension went with him and Lady Celi moved to loosely embrace her third husband, a warm smile tugging the corners of her rouge lips up.

“Wolf, it’s so good that you’ve come to visit!” she said happily, leaning up to gift him with a quick, friendly kiss. “You should really come by the castle more often, darling! I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“It’s wonderful to see you, Cecilie,” he replied, allowing the blonde woman to cling to him for a moment. “You’re as beautiful as ever, exactly as I remember you.”

“And you’re looking much better! Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” he reassured her quickly, turning to his brown haired step-son before she could ask him anything more. “You’re looking well, Conrart.”

“I’m getting by, sir,” Conrad said in return, though he didn’t seem pleased to be speaking with him.

“I’m sure your father would be very proud.”

The brunet supplied no reply to that statement; the two men just looked at one another awkwardly, neither of them knowing what to say. Conrad was the first to look away, appearing uncomfortable - which was not a very common occurrence with someone who was usually so sure of himself and his abilities- and Wolfgang soon gave up trying to hold a conversation with him, facing the king and princess instead. A small smile appeared upon his face then, one that was barely noticeable, but one that took away at least a little of the weariness in his pale green eyes.

Yuuri smiled back at him, some of his nervousness ebbing away. This man surely wasn’t what he’d expected him to be judging form all of the rumors he’d heard, although the last time Wolfgang had been to the castle had been many, many years ago, so there was a good possibility that he’d changed since then. Still, he seemed far more sincere than his older brother had, and he wasn’t glaring, nor did he appear angry or annoyed, even if Conrad refused to warm up to him. The demon king wasn’t getting any bad vibes from him, and when Wolfgang smiled gently at Greta it was actually genuine. He was reserved, aloof, but not cruel at all.

“Your Majesty, Princess,” he said to the two of them, Lady Celi remaining at his side as if to support him. “I’ve looked foreword to meeting the both of you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Captain von Bielefeld,” the king replied as his daughter curtseyed again. Yuuri then extended his left hand, offering it to his fiancé’s father, who clasped it and shook hands with him firmly. “Lady Celi’s told me a bit about you. I’m glad you could make it,” he said, finding that he truly meant it.

“Yes, it’s been a while since I’ve been to the palace,” Wolfgang said in answer, sparing a moment to look up at the stone structure, as if memorizing the building all over again. When he looked back down, his smile had once more disappeared, his scarred face taking on a look of seriousness that reminded the Japanese man of Gwendal. “I apologize for my older brother’s rudeness. He’s never liked having to leave the estate. Travel is not something he enjoys.”

“It’s okay,” Yuuri reassured him, confident that he could ignore the older Bielefeld if his attitude got any worse. “Some of the other Aristocrats were worse when they first got here.”

Wolfgang nodded in understanding. “They’re not used to being around one another. They only assemble for special occasions, otherwise they send a representative. It’s been many years since they were last together in the same place.”

“Not since the end of the war,” Celi supplied. “The Ten Aristocrats aren’t what they used to be,” she sighed sadly. “They can’t be objective anymore. They think more about themselves than they do the people.”

“I’m sure His Majesty will find a solution to that,” the navy captain said confidently, looking back at the young, dark haired king. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about you, Your Majesty. The tales of your successes over the last four years bring strength to our people. I’m sure that if there’s anyone who can unify us, it’s you.”

Yuuri’s blushed lightly at his praise, lifting a hand to scratch the back of his head, not really knowing what to say to that. “I’ll do my best,” he said at last, shifting slightly on his feet, a little nervous again, especially after hearing this man voice such great expectations. “I’m not sure if that will be enough, but I’ll try my hardest.”

“Wimp,” he heard Wolfram mutter under his breath from beside him, reminding them that he was still present.

Wolfgang turned to his son then, and Yuuri watched as his eyes widened just slightly as they fell upon the blond haired boy, gazing dawn at him for the first time in at least a decade. Yuuri didn’t know how long it had been since the two had last seen each other, but he imagined it had been quite some time. The older man’s surprised reaction helped to support that idea, as Captain von Bielefeld took a step or two towards the other boy to get a better look at him, aqua eyes trailing over his slender frame. The younger male fidgeted somewhat under his gaze, unable to meet his eyes.

“Wolfram,” his father began, still looking him over, noting any changes that had taken place over the years. “You’ve grown,” he observed, and Yuuri could have sworn there was a hint of pride in his voice, though his fiancé didn’t seem to notice.

“A little,” Wolfram replied uncomfortably.

“Don’t be so modest!” Celi cooed to her third child, coming over to stand by father and son. “The last time your father saw you, you were barely over sixty yeas old!” she reminded him. “You’ve grown a bit since then, though you aren’t much taller. I suppose it’s only natural that one of my sons end up short.”

“Mother!” the golden blond haired boy complained.

She didn’t pay his whining any attention, just moved to smile up at her ex-husband. “Before you arrived we were talking about when Wolfram was born. Don’t you remember how small he was, darling? Both Gwendal and Conrart were much bigger babies, and they didn’t cry nearly as much either. Wolfram cried about everything,” she said this to Yuuri, who was smiling again in amusement.

“I don’t believe he’s changed much in that respect,” the king said, teasing again.

“Do you want me to hurt you?” his fiancé growled threateningly, eliciting a few quiet giggles from both his mother and daughter.

“Now, now, Wolfram,” Celi soothed. “It wouldn’t do to kill His Majesty before the wedding. For now, why don’t we all go inside and get out of this sun,” she suggested, fanning herself with one of her hands, then looking up at Wolfgang adoringly. “I’m sure you must be exhausted after traveling so far! Let me show you to your room, darling, so that you can get some rest before dinner.”

Wolfgang nodded at that and followed Celi inside, bowing to their dark haired sovereign before turning to enter the massive palace.

Yuuri moved to follow them, the others trialing close behind, and he smiled in relief once they’d entered the palace, letting out a quiet sigh.

That hadn’t gone so bad after all.

TBC…

A/N: So… there you have it. I don’t really like this chapter very much; it’s kind of boring. It’s more like a filler chapter, I suppose, so that certain necessary characters are introduced for later on in the story. Nothing grand and extraordinary has happened yet, but I wanted to go ahead and get all of the introductions over with, so I wouldn’t have to take the time to do it later. I know some people have problems with original characters (I know I do, depending on how the story is written and if the characters actually fit in it and with the other characters or not), but I tried to make mine as believable as I could, so that hopefully it seems as if they belong in the KKM universe, or at least fit into the lives of Yuuri and Wolfram. A few of them you’ll get to know a little better in future chapters (Wolfgang, Mikhail - maybe - and Julius) , but they definitely will not be taking the spotlight away of our beloved couple.

And, just so you know, I may have made up the characters, but I did not make up their names off of the top of my head. I don’t want to say I stole them… it was more like I borrowed them. Where? Well…

Obviously I got Wolfgang from Mozart. Ever since I started writing KKM, I’ve had this thing for classical music. I don’t know why, it just gives me a lot of inspiration. Originally I was going to name him after Vivaldi, but then I thought Wolfgang von Bielefeld sounded better than Antonio von Bielefeld, and for some reason the name ‘Wolfgang’ just kind of fits his character more.

As for everyone else - Auberon is based on the name Oberon, the king of fairies. Winifred von Yale comes from Winifred Wagner, who married the son of Wilhelm Richard Wagner (an influential German composer, conductor, music theorist, etc.) - she was also a close friend of Hitler - and the Yale part of her name comes from Yale University. Mikhail’s name comes from Mikhail Baryshnikov, a famous Russian dancer. Julius von Mannheim comes from Julius Caesar and the city of Mannheim. Griselda von Hassel comes from an opera by Antonio Vivaldi, and Hassel is a small town in Luxembourg, I do believe. Marlena was the only name I sort of made up on my own, though I used to book of baby names to help me with it.

Also, about that thing about Bastille that Conrad and Lady Celi were talking about (you’ll find out what happened there and why later on in the story): I got the name from a prison in Paris. For those how don’t know, the Bastille was stormed on July 14th, 1789 and signaled the beginning of the French Revolution.