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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
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.
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: The 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 4
After spending the night in a room with six other men, Wolfram went to have breakfast and then to a briefing. It was held in a room which was hardly big enough for the present forty people. For some reason, it reeked of alcohol there. The wooden floor and the benches were strewn with darkened stains. The floor was dusty and the three small windows were curtained with cobwebs and dried flies.
First, the newcomers were introduced to their officers and to the old hands at the fort. They were also informed that they were exchanging fifteen men who now were going back to their lands or to other posts. In three weeks’ time, when the newcomers gained some more experience and got used to their surroundings, five additional men were going to leave; the number of soldiers in the fort was usually fixed and amounted to a total of seventy-five men.
The briefing and introductions lasted for about thirty minutes then the rookies were paired up with old hands, given their schedules, and dismissed.
Wolfram looked at the sergeant who had declared himself to be his partner. As with all Demons, it was hard to tell his age, but it was obvious to Wolfram that the sergeant was older than him by at least ten years. His broad face had a healthy tan and he wore his bluish hair short. A few undone buttons at the top of his shirt revealed more of the tan and a tuft of dark blue chest hair. The sleeves of his uniform were rolled up to his elbows and he seemed to be a practical man.
“Tyari Meron,” the man said, holding out his hand.
“Err, yes, sir,” Wolfram said, shaking his hand. Tyari’s grip was firm. “Wolfram von Bielefeld. Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise,” answered the sergeant, letting go of Wolfram’s hand. “Alright, let’s go to the western turret. I’ll show you around on the way there.”
Together with the other men, Wolfram and Tyari filed out into the corridor. Wolfram followed the sergeant outside into the yard then they separated from the other men and started walking west. Although the mud on the ground had dried, there were still a few large puddles and the day was turning out to be just as the rest of them – sweltering with heat; so far this summer had been extremely hot and humid. Wolfram hoped that at least by the sea it was going to be a little cooler.
While walking across the yard, Wolfram noticed about ten men on the walls. Most of them had crossbows slung over their backs. They were sleepily walking along the landings.
The fort wasn’t big at all. Add to the fact, the walls were wooden with four large turrets. Wolfram was of the impression that if under attack, it would be more time consuming trying to put out the burning pine balk walls than taking up arms against the enemy. This was an old fort, and he could see the patches of lighter wood where the walls had been repaired over and over.
“Which element do you wield?”
Wolfram averted his eyes from the walls and looked at the sergeant. He quickened his pace after realizing he was lagging a few steps behind Tyari.
“Fire, sir.”
The sergeant met the blond’s eyes. “We usually don’t have many fire-wielders. Most of the soldiers here wield water.”
Wolfram nodded. He was a little surprised at how direct the sergeant was being but decided not to show it. “Yes, it’s understandable, sir; Lesa in on a coast, and the fort is wooden. I was surprised we still had any wooden forts left, sir.”
The sergeant gave Wolfram another appreciative look. The blond interpreted it as a silent question as to why he had chosen Lesa if he had known all that. Wolfram blushed lightly and decided not to answer.
Seeing that the blond had become a little uncomfortable, Tyari motioned with his hand at the wooden walls. “Actually, a new one is going to be erected in a few years’ time and this one will be torn down. The works on the foundations are going to be started in a few months.”
“Will it be built instead of this one, sir?”
“No. I’ll show you the intended place once we are on the turret.”
They reached the western turret’s stairs and climbed up. From the landing, Wolfram looked around. In front of him, westward, was the sea. The water was blue and the waves were small, moving lazily in windless weather. It was still about a half kilometer walk to the coast itself. About ten tiny houses were strewn further along the coast. There was a pier trailing off into the sea. Around it, Wolfram could just make out a few dots which he guessed were fishing boats.
Lesa had a port but it was of so little importance that no one ever mentioned it. The villagers fished, sowed their infertile fields, raised cattle, and hunted in the nearby woods. It didn’t trade by sea. There had been a few merchants who had tried the sea route but they had been deterred by the storms, the lack of customers, and Kardera’s patrolling fleet, which constantly checked the goods before letting the merchants pass.
Wolfram turned east where he could see the rest of the village. About twenty houses. Most of them were painted yellow – must be the current fashion in the village. He could see a few soldiers riding along the roads. There was also a horse pulling a cart with hay. It was slowly advancing along the road. A villager was sitting on the top of the heap and a few pitchforks were stuck in the hay.
“There.”
Wolfram turned to look in the direction the sergeant was pointing. It was a hill on their left, closer to the pier. He wondered if it came into Shin Makoku’s plans to start building a navy fleet here in Lesa. Very likely not. There must be much more appropriate places for that.
Wolfram looked down at the fort. Surrounded by thick wooden walls, there was the building of barracks, the kitchen and the canteen, the stables, and a warehouse. Wolfram had already seen the most of the fort yesterday while getting his linens and then dining later.
Wolfram’s eyes returned to the sergeant.
“You stay here until six o’clock,” the sergeant answered to the blond’s questioning eyes. He observed Wolfram’s bare head. “First go to the warehouse and get yourself a cap and then something for lunch. At six o’clock’s the changing of the guard. You’ll be free for the day after that.”
“Yes, sir,” Wolfram nodded, saluting. He started climbing downstairs.
While heading into the warehouse, Wolfram wondered if there had been no one else wanting to pair up with him. He was curious whether or not the sergeant had volunteered or if he had been forced to pair up with him after no one else undertook the task. Tyari, as a sergeant, obviously had his own duties to take care of, and patrolling on a turret for an entire day wasn’t included in them. Well, one way or another, this wasn’t for long, just for three weeks, until the rookies got used to life at the fort.
---
Day to day life at the fort, which was different from what Wolfram had believed, was a rough adjustment. The first week was quite difficult for him because he wasn’t used to sleeping with so many men in one room. True, he had taken part in a few trips and sorties but he usually had his own tent which he would pitch up further from everyone else’s. During the times he had needed to sleep in one space with other men, he slept poorly, but that was fixed once he returned home to his tent or stayed in an inn. However, here he had to simply endure.
Another thing was the food. Most of it was obtained from the village. It was varied and nourishing, including: fish, poultry, vegetables, flour, beef, pork, and lamb. The problem was that Wolfram had difficulties getting used to the meals they were turned into. There were quite a few dishes specific only to this part of the country. Sometimes, the cooks showed their skill in offering meals from other lands or even other countries. Still, Wolfram found this torturous; he had always had a sensitive stomach.
He also couldn’t appreciate the inn his friends had shown him in the village. It was an old, rundown building. The first time Wolfram visited it, the owner managed to find a forgotten bottle of old wine in his cellar, but there was nothing else to delight Wolfram’s mouth during his next visits. He hated the beer the soldiers were drinking with absolute bliss on their faces. He hated the rum even more. During the next two months, he gained quite a reputation while drinking nothing else but tea and water.
He had made friends with two rookies and there was the sergeant, who he still talked to even after the trial period of three weeks had been over. He and his friends hung out after their patrol or watch hours around in the barracks, the seashore or the village. There weren’t very many things one could do at the fort. Everybody played cards and flirted with the girls (sometimes lads) from the village. Not that they ever allowed themselves to be picked up; they flirted back but it was strictly for sport. Wolfram had also tried to fish from the pier but realized that he preferred swimming. Soldiers also went mushrooming or gather berries but only the villagers knew best places for that. There was also a lake five kilometers away from the village and Wolfram liked it better than the salty water of the sea.
Overall, the villagers had a strange approach to the fort and the soldiers in general. During the first month of his service, Wolfram had received orders to find and retrieve a cow which had broken loose from its chain, then to get a cat out of a pine tree, and help weed a field of potatoes for a granny whose hardworking son had recently died of a stroke. The villagers would also run for the fort if rain caught them by surprise half-way home. Sometimes, Wolfram felt that he belonged to the “Association of Good Samaritans”. From time to time, though, the villagers offered the soldiers small tokens of free milk, carrots, potatoes, and meat.
The first letter he wrote to Gwendal was to inform him that he had arrived and settled in. The second one was about his noble achievements in the village and a disruptive hole in his sock. Gwendal’s reply, which Wolfram received five days later, included a package of a few needles and some darning thread. Gwendal also wrote to him that not everyone had to slay a dragon to get promoted and advised him to be patient and take pleasure in little joys. Wolfram read this letter just after he had stepped into one of the little joys a flock of chickens had left in the fort.
The correspondence was delivered by winged skeletons, which flew back and forth over Shin Makoku’s lands without getting tired. In comparison to Human lands, the post system in Shin Makoku was more advanced and the skeletons reached the destination faster than commonly used pigeons or postmen on horses.
Gwendal’s letters informed him about what was happening at home and about the latest events in the country. His letters were not the only ones Wolfram was waiting for. However, Yuuri never sent one. Eventually, two months had passed and there was no sight of it. Wolfram was angry, but mostly he was angry with himself for even waiting for it.
With time, standing watch for hours and hours became easier. He also became quite skilled with a crossbow. However, there was another thing Wolfram hadn’t taken into the account – patrolling and standing watch left plenty of time to think. And the thoughts that found way into his head were not always pleasant.
He was thinking a lot about Yuuri and what happened between them. He was glad he had found strength in himself to dissolve that fruitless engagement. However, being glad about it did nothing to his longing for Yuuri. People frequently said that there was always plenty of fish in the sea but it was hard to convince himself of this when the only fish he wanted was Yuuri.
Mostly, dark thoughts would come to him when he stood watch at night, alone in his existence, only burning torches farther down the walls reminding him of other people. Sometimes, he would submerge into self-pity so deep that he wanted to cry. He hated himself for this weakness.
Wolfram sometimes wondered if Yuuri had thought of him as a joke. No, not him, but rather his feelings and the whole idea of a man having a relationship with another man. Both of them had been raised in completely different environments. It had been so unfortunate for him to fall in love with a foreigner.
Now and then, there were times when he would realize that he couldn’t even begin to understand what Yuuri’s thoughts were on the subject. It, somehow, felt slippery. Yuuri didn’t seem to abhor the idea itself but anything beyond that made him awkward, skittish, timid, or even angry. He didn’t want to have anything to do with it and rather treated it as a contagious disease. Maybe, that was exactly what it looked like to Yuuri.
Their characters were very different as well, they also had different interests and the gap had only been increasing with Yuuri constantly absent. He had been getting older faster than Yuuri and, naturally, had wanted something substantial from him. Were he a woman, would Yuuri have answered his feelings? Now Wolfram doubted that.
His musings at the fort had brought him a revelation in a month: Yuuri was an admirer. He liked to watch pretty people but rarely got involved. He flirted but never got serious. It was very likely that Yuuri had never been in love with anyone and didn’t even want to be. He probably didn’t even understand what it felt like to be in love with someone. And, now that he was thinking about it, Wolfram suspected that he was the one who had made love seem such an unwanted and complicated matter to Yuuri.
Wolfram found this humorous, but mostly the “bitter” kind. This led him to thinking that if he had somehow gone about it differently, he might have had a chance. This, in return, brought more regret and pain than it helped.
He wished he could just cross Yuuri out of his memory. No, rather to tear a page off the calendar that said: “A day of falling in love with Yuuri.” He didn’t want to forget Yuuri, not really. He simply didn’t want to feel pain every time he thought about him. This was going to come, of course, with time. The pain would subside, then disappear, and then one day the only thing left from it at all would be a melancholic nostalgia. For now, though, Yuuri persecuted him in his thoughts, people’s mouths, news bulletins, and his wet dreams.
---
It was seven o’clock in the evening when Wolfram, together with another soldier, rode out on his usual patrol. They had to patrol the north sector of the fort, along the coast, a distance of about seven kilometers. There was usually not a living soul when the sun would set. The villagers were hard-working people and went to sleep early so that they could start the new day with vigor. At night, all Wolfram could hear were wolves howling, nightingales singing, and toads croaking. Farther in the distance, he would spot an occasional deer or a few fireflies.
It had been an overcast day, and the evening was getting even worse. The air was cool as well. The thick fog was rising from the sea and coiling around, covering the land. It wasn’t raining yet, which Wolfram thought was fortunate. Patrolling in the rain was not his favorite pastime.
Riding alongside the coast, the two of them spent their time talking about horses and life at the fort. Wolfram didn’t particularly like Derek but maintaining an easygoing conversation was much better than staying quiet. All the time they were talking, the fog was creeping out from the sea, thickening. It was getting dark as well and soon it was hard to see anything at all.
Around midnight, Wolfram and Derek’s conversation started drying up and soon they just quietly rode side to side, trying to see what was in front of them. Wolfram felt sleepy; his thoughts that this patrolling wasn’t very useful did nothing to dissipate his lethargy. It had gotten cold and he wrapped himself tighter into his trench coat.
“Hey, there!”
The alarm in Derek’s voice made Wolfram’s head shoot up and follow his hand which was pointing towards the sea. In the distance, there were a few glowing circles afloat in the fog. The glow did not pierce the air but rather seemed like small oases of light. At first, Wolfram stared at them, not understanding, then it dawned on him.
“A ship.”
Derek nodded.
“Whose?”
“Probably just one of Kardera’s patrolling ships. It must have wandered off course in this fog.”
Wolfram watched the softly moving lights amidst the fog. Derek was probably right. Wolfram wondered what they should do now.
“I suppose, we should tell them to clear off,” Derek suggested. “They are in Shin Makoku’s territory.”
Wolfram measured the distance from the shore to the ship. It was hard to tell with the fog but the ship seemed to be far away. “Well, you’re welcome to take a swim,” he said. “Besides, I don’t think they would understand what you’re saying.”
“They must have someone on board who understands at least one of Shin Makoku’s dialects.”
Wolfram shrugged. He watched the ship indecisively.
“We still have to somehow clear this,” Derek said, turning his horse forward and cupping his hands around his mouth.
Wolfram urged his horse closer to him. “Stop it,” he hissed smacking at Derek’s hands. “We don’t know for sure if those are Karderians.”
“Who else can it be?” Derek snorted and Wolfram felt that if he weren’t a von Bielefeld, Derek would have smacked him back.
“Anyone with a ship; we can’t see anything in this f-”
At the sound of an arrow whipping past, Wolfram flung himself off the horse and to the ground. Derek, with an arrow protruding from his chest, hit the sand a few seconds later. The whipping sound repeated. Wolfram’s horse neighed painfully and reared. The blond yelped and jerked backward, rolling out of the way so as not to be trampled on. The horse bolted suddenly and Derek’s horse followed it, dragging Derek’s body after it, with his foot caught in the stirrup.
“Get them!”
“The horses! The horses!”
Wolfram pushed himself off the sand and started running away from the voices. As long as he kept his distance, they would be not able to see him and then he would have time to come up with something. Shouts and footsteps behind him indicated that he was being chased. His trench coat flapping, Wolfram ran in the direction of the wood which he knew was supposed to be somewhere on his left.
Farther off the coast, the fog wasn’t as thick but, even if he could finally see where he was running, whoever was chasing him could also see him. Wolfram felt naked, and, regardless, he had to cross the distance as soon as he could.
Panting, he ran into the wood. After having run among trees in the dark for about two hundred meters, he stopped. If his persecutors weren’t Demons as well, he had a better chance with his superior vision. But, even then, he had had a hard time avoiding running into trees.
Suffocating in the thick air, Wolfram leaned his back against a tree and slid down to the ground. Through the blood pounding in his ears, he could vaguely hear voices. He swallowed loudly and panted further while trying to catch his breath. Thoughts were shooting across his mind like burning arrows: Derek dead; alone; horses away; many men; who?; the ship; had to warn; alone; too far; wh-
A twig snapped somewhere behind him and Wolfram jumped to his feet, whirling around. A branch that collided with Wolfram’s forehead tossed him backwards into the moss where he dropped unconscious.
“It’s good to have an earth-wielder around,” the man who had hit Wolfram said, tossing the branch aside.
The second man, to whom the words were directed, agreed with a grin, “Yeah, you certainly wouldn’t have found him without me.” He started fiddling with the lantern in his hand and soon the light twinkled inside. Then, he drew his sword and moved toward Wolfram, intending to finish him off.
“What?” the other man asked as, instead of skewering the unconscious man, the tip of his comrade’s blade ran over his chest hesitantly.
“Look at the ring on his right hand; he might be of some use.”
The man came closer and took a look at Wolfram’s hand. He leaned down and grasped the blond’s fingers to pull the signet ring off. “WB,” he muttered, after taking a closer look at the initials on the ring in the lantern’s shadowy light. “Clearly some nob.” Putting the ring into his pocket, he peered at Wolfram’s face more closely. “Very pretty.”
“Indeed.” The earth-wielder sheathed his sword slowly. “Let’s take him to the captain. Maybe he will want to ransom; his folks must be loaded with money.”
“Yeah,” the other man agreed. He took another look at the blond’s face, calculating. “The captain might want to keep him, though,” he said. “Or sell, maybe.” He watched his comrade tie the blond’s hands. Then, he turned around to look behind himself. “Let’s retrace our steps – I want to look for my sword. It was a good one.”
“Forget it. It’s too dark; you won’t find it.”
“I lost it when we were rolling down that slope.”
“Alright, let’s go, but you will be the one to carry the lad.”
---
Wolfram’s ears were registering soft thumping sounds but there was no telling what they were. His eyelids fluttered open. Absolutely disoriented, he stared with blurry eyes in front of him. Something was whirring in his head and it was throbbing with excruciating pain. He whimpered and closed his eyes again, letting his muddled mind drift away.
His sense of time was warped as well. When Wolfram opened his eyes again, he wasn’t certain whether it had been hours or seconds since the last time he had closed them. The throbbing in his head hadn’t subsided, either. Swallowing loudly, he tried to orient himself in his surroundings.
He found himself staring at a wooden ceiling. He could feel that he was lying on something equally hard. Slowly, Wolfram’s head turned to look around the space surrounding him. A lantern was burning farther on a table. Its feeble light hardly illuminated the area, leaving Wolfram to instinctively guess what the shadows were hiding. Wolfram closed his eyes again as his efforts brought him a spell of dizziness. His stomach bubbled and he swallowed the saliva that had flooded his mouth suddenly. Something wasn’t right. Through the confusing mist and pounding pain that veiled his mind, he couldn’t grasp what it was, but there was something wrong.
His stomach suddenly decided that it wanted out and Wolfram turned sideways. While doing so, he found that his hands and feet were bound. Despite this, he managed to turn on his side.
“What the?”
Retching, Wolfram caught movement at the table. The shadows stirred and grew taller, turning into figures of three grown men. Someone let out a sound filled with disgust.
“Fuck!”
One of the men kicked Wolfram in the back and he toppled forward into his own vomit. That resulted in another bout of retching. Wolfram’s head throbbed madly and his consciousness started slipping again. The last thing he felt was someone pulling him by his clothes, returning his body into the position on his side again.
“Make sure he doesn’t choke.”
Tbc
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Bloom