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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
- 43
- 44
- 45
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 – 21. Eldara – 32. Halea – 20. Athara – 18. Gwendal – 54.
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.
<b>Bloom</b>
by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com), beta-read by Anonymously Awesome

Part 44
“Why did you tell me to ask Wolfram about von Ashira’s business here?” Yuuri demanded as soon as he entered von Voltaire’s study. “Why would Wolfram know?”
Gwendal, who had been reading a letter, lowered it to the desk. While thinking about his answer and whether he indeed needed to answer, he stared at the king. It was obvious that Shibuya had found out. Von Voltaire pursed his lips in distaste – at least he hadn’t been the one to tell Shibuya. It was quite strange, though, that the king was so agitated by it. It was barely seven in the morning and, judging by his reddish eyes and the grayish color of his skin Shibuya had barely slept.
“Why don’t we have some coffee first, Your Majesty?”
“I keep telling you to call me ‘Yuuri’!” Yuuri burst out. “And I don’t want coffee! I want to know why von Ashira was…” Yuuri stumbled over his words. “Uh… Why he and Wolfram were…” he trailed off in exasperated discomfort, not knowing how to proceed. “Yesterday I…”
Von Voltaire’s hands closed into fists. “Yes? Yesterday?”
Yuuri blinked at him, his agitation turning into uncertainty. “Uh.”
Gwendal stared at the youngster in front of him. Obviously, Shibuya had caught the two in action. And the thing they had been doing had clearly been beyond a friendly peck on the lips.
“Yesterday was good weather for travelling,” Yuuri said cheerfully.
Gwendal slapped himself on his forehead. He decided to just get on with it. “Von Ashira has proposed to Wolfram. As things stand, it seems that Wolfram will agree.”
Shibuya’s reddened eyes were so wide now that von Voltaire found it amusing. He must have looked the same when he had read Gunter’s report on von Ashira and Wolfram’s relationship first. He sighed. Now he had two choices – to either lie or tell the truth. Gwendal wondered if von Ashira was clairvoyant; despite everything, he had underestimated the man yet again.
“What’s so special about him?” Yuuri demanded moments later, his voice irritated. He waved his hands about and flopped into the chair opposite Gwendal’s desk. “There are tons of men out there, why would Wolfram go for von Ashira?”
Gwendal’s brow rose. And Yuuri was asking him of all people? “I wouldn’t know,” he said, clearing his throat meaningfully.
Yuuri blanched at the sound. Sex, he thought, the duke must be great in bed. Yesterday’s scene from Wolfram’s room hit him like a brick between the eyes again. Now, this wasn’t fair, Yuuri decided. He had no experience in the matter. None whatsoever. He had kissed a few times in high school but had never gone past that. Maybe it was strange, maybe not, but he had more opportunities to have sex in this world than in his Japanese hometown. Here were thousands of young women interested in him. The problem was that their interest was solely in his status and gold. Sometimes, while visiting noblemen in Shin Makoku or other kingdoms he would receive offers to use the services of their concubines or prostitutes. It was a common courtesy to show this kind of hospitality. He had never taken them up on the offer. He sometimes regretted that. He sometimes did think about agreeing but there were so many questions concerning the issue that he always backed away: what if the woman had some disease? What if she got pregnant? Did people here use any protection? And if she got pregnant, would he have to marry a common prostitute? He would not want that for either himself or the kingdom. And how would that look in other kingdoms’ eyes?
He was such a hypocrite, Yuuri realized.
Yuuri jumped to his feet and started pacing the study. “I don’t like him!” he voiced his displeasure aloud. There were many more things that he didn’t like about the situation, but the duke was the most obvious one and probably the easiest problem to get rid of. That would certainly make things better.
“It’s alright, Your Majesty,” Gwendal said losing his patience with the younger man. “You don’t need to like him. Your Majesty isn’t the one he’s interested in.”
Yuuri glared at him. “So now you’re alright with that?”
Gwendal nodded. “Yes, I’m fine with that.”
“I can’t believe it! You were the one most set against von Ashira!”
“Yes, but that was before I found out how serious His Grace’s intentions are concerning Wolfram.”
“I can’t believe it!” Yuuri repeated angrily. He had expected to find an ally in von Voltaire. That plan had failed spectacularly. Now he felt upset, irritated, so…helpless. Control was slipping through his fingers. He was losing Wolfram again. He was losing him to some foreigner who was ten years Wolfram’s senior. Wolfram was going to leave Shin Makoku. He was going to live in a different kingdom, under a different king’s rule. He was going to lose the little connection they still had, even if it was only king-subject relationship. Wolfram was a von Bielefeld, the owner of a land in his kingdom and as long as he was alive, he belonged to Shin Makoku, to him. Wolfram, however, might never return to his land. There was his uncle and later…Wolfram might have a son and leave everything to him. That was probably how it was going to happen.
“Well, their marriage is not a given yet,” Gwendal pointed out after having watched the kaleidoscope of emotions display on the young king’s face. “Wolfram still has to agree.”
This seemed to pacify Shibuya somewhat. “I will make sure that he doesn’t,” he promised.
Gwendal was tempted to ask how but then decided that he had already done enough and kept his mouth closed. He watched the king pace in circles on the rug. Shibuya appeared to be deep in thought. Von Voltaire didn’t know how he felt about the king’s sudden initiative. There was so much drama going on around Wolfram that even he felt tired.
“Why don’t we go and have breakfast with everyone?” von Voltaire suggested ten minutes later. He was finished with his letter, had also written a reply to it.
“Sounds good,” Yuuri mumbled even thought he wasn’t hungry. He waited for Gwendal to stand up and then headed for the door.
- - -
When Yuuri’s and Wolfram’s eyes met across the breakfast table, Yuuri lowered his awkwardly. He felt an uncomfortable blush starting to spread over his face. He took big interest in his slice of bread and scrambled eggs. He heard von Ashira’s voice agreeing to something Cecilie had said. The two of them laughed, and Yuuri felt like throwing his scrambled eggs at the duke’s face. He was not ever going to forgive the man for making him witness either that scandalous sight or those bestial sounds in Wolfram’s room. He would never see Wolfram in the same way again.
Wolfram asked Gwendal to pass him the salt, and, similarly, Yuuri felt like launching his glass at the blond. That scene from Wolfram’s bedroom was haunting him, and Wolfram was at fault as well. His image had changed in Yuuri’s mind so much that the king had trouble understanding which one of them was real – the dejected one who had gone to Lesa Fort or the vulgar one who was being fucked by a man ten years his senior. Yuuri did realize that the two images had to be the same Wolfram, but his mind refused to accept it.
The breakfast passed with Yuuri and Wolfram avoiding looking at each other and without having exchanging words. Yuuri could feel that, while he himself was awkward and irritated, Wolfram was in some kind of stupor. He felt an urge to talk to the blond and…just to make things somehow better, to somehow bring the usual Wolfram and their former relationship back. He, however, had no idea what to say. The duke, on the other hand, was as witty and cheerful as ever. He pretended nothing happened, and though it angered Yuuri, at the same time he thought that it was wise of the man.
- - -
“How could you do that to them?” Gwendal growled at von Ashira. They were in his study, von Voltaire in his usual place behind the desk while von Ashira was sitting in front of him.
Shifting in the chair to get more comfortable, Eldara gave him an insulted look. “Why do you automatically presume that I had done it intentionally?” he spat. “I wasn’t even in my room – it’s not my business to lock the door. It was just bad luck.”
Gwendal huffed in exasperation. “Yeah, right.”
The duke put his hands up. “Think what you wish but maybe that’s for the best. Shibuya will either accept him as it is or push him away completely.”
“That’s ‘King Shibuya’ to you,” Gwendal snapped at him. “I know you did that on purpose.”
The duke rolled his eyes. “Oh, will you stop that? Repeating it won’t make me admit to anything.”
Gwendal’s eyes flashed in fury. “Who gave you the right to decide? I ought to behead you!”
“Incredible,” Eldara said, snorting. “As much as I am insulted by the threat, we both know that you won’t carry it out.” Then he sighed theatrically. “This is ridiculous. Just tell me that you hate me. I promise you will feel much better.”
“I hate you,” Gwendal spat but without much fervor. He knew he was being unreasonable, but this man kept throwing him off balance.
“See? Feeling better now?”
“No.”
With a roll of his eyes the duke stood up and went to the cabinet with the drinks. “May I?” he asked motioning at the glass door.
Von Voltaire shrugged indignantly. “Help yourself.”
Eldara inspected the collection of bottles and chose the one he had never seen before. He grabbed two glasses and carried them and the bottle to von Voltaire’s desk. He opened the bottle and, without asking, poured the glasses.
“He’s not a little boy anymore,” he said pushing one glass to Gwendal.
“And whose fault is that?” Gwendal snapped, grabbing the glass.
Eldara laughed softly, and Gwendal fought the rising blush down. He was being unreasonable. Wolfram was leading a healthy sexual life. One that was clearly more eventful than his own anyway. Gwendal took a gulp from his glass.
“Imagine your sister in his place,” he said.
“She is pregnant and happily married,” Eldara pointed out, sipping wine from his glass.
Gwendal’s face scrunched in distaste. “It’s a completely different matter. You’ve got the von Sardas by their balls. You can manipulate Fredrick any way you like.”
The duke chuckled at the phrasing. “I was not the one to make Fredrick take interest in Halea.”
“No,” Gwendal said darkly, “he was just stupid enough.” He cleared his throat when Eldara’s eyebrows rose. “I meant stupid enough to fall into your clutches.”
Eldara laughed at the way Gwendal covered his slip-up. “Wolfram isn’t as easy to manipulate,” he assured von Voltaire with a soft smile. “If he were, I would have already married him.”
“Yes, you’ve said that before, but he’s…” Gwendal shook his head then took another sip. “I would even prefer Shibuya to you.”
Eldara rolled his eyes. “In the end,” he said, “it will never be your choice, only his.”
Gwendal glared at him at first then his face smoothed out and he nodded. Eldara was completely right.
“Once, I told Shibuya that he was not the one for Wolfram,” Gwendal said suddenly.
Eldara searched the older man’s face. Von Voltaire seemed to be brooding.
“Perhaps he was not,” Eldara agreed with a shrug. “Not the way he was before.”
Gwendal leaned back in his chair, pushed his empty glass aside and folded his hands on the desk. “You just listen to that pretentious crap come out of your mouth…”
Eldara sighed. “You won’t forgive me, will you? More wine?” he offered.
Von Voltaire took his glass and pushed it closer to the duke, who filled it again.
“On another note,” Gwendal said, taking the filled glass. “I was informed that one of my subjects has brought a woman from Raizgad.” With his free hand he rustled through the stack of papers on his desk until he found the right one. “Amaljea Oilira,” he read the name.
“Just call her ‘Ana’,” the duke advised seeing that von Voltaire, just as his half-brother, was finding it difficult to pronounce the name. “That’s what Wolfram calls her.”
“Oh.” Gwendal took a sip from his glass. He pushed the stack of papers aside again. “Is that so? Then I suppose everything has been done with your knowledge?”
Eldara nodded. “Absolutely. Wolfram and I had an agreement.”
Von Voltaire nodded as well. He sipped the wine again. “I was told they are marrying on Friday.”
Eldara smiled. “Yes, the groom has taken the trouble to invite me personally. He seems to be a peculiar man,” he added.
Gwendal chuckled. “Indeed,” he agreed. “He’s got a unique sense of humor.” He saluted Eldara with his glass. “I hope they will be happy.”
Eldara answered the salute and drank to it. Surprisingly, he was looking forward to the wedding. He knew that mostly down-to-earth soldiers would be present, which was a pleasant change from his sister’s pompous wedding. Wolfram had also been invited and accepted the invitation graciously.
Gwendal cleared his throat. “I hear his colleagues are gathering money for their wedding present. They intend to gather at least half for a house in the vicinity of Shin Makoku. The rest should be covered by Hurbert himself.”
“Oh, of course, I will chip in,” the duke agreed at once. “Whom should I give the money?”
“Mine was taken by Gurrier.”
Eldara nodded. “I see.”

- - -
Eldara squeezed his fingers around the bat. The ball was thrown towards him, and he hit it. He watched the ball soar through the air towards Conrart, who got ready to try and catch it.
“Run!”
The duke looked around in the muddy yard.
“No, not you!” came an exasperated shout when the catcher threw his glove to the ground and started running. “Your Grace, run!”
“Oh, right!” Eldara mumbled under his breath, starting to run.
“Wrong direction!” the king shouted again.
With a sigh, Eldara turned around. Baseball was something he didn’t quite enjoy. They had already been playing for over an hour and he wished for the game to stop. Explaining the rules of the game had taken up the majority of said hour. It didn’t make much sense to the duke. First of all, one needed eighteen players. To gather that amount of people was a pain in itself. Then you had to throw the ball and hope that the opposing team wouldn’t hit it. If they did hit it, one hoped that they wouldn’t run fast enough to finish the anticlockwise circle around the four bases.
Shibuya of Shin Makoku obviously loved the game and was trying to spread his immense enthusiasm. Eldara had been told that the king had two baseball teams which he summoned every time he wanted to play.
Some people did seem to be enjoying themselves on the muddy field. The duke tried to stay optimistic – maybe there was more sense to this than there seemed at first glance. Wolfram, however, was thoroughly bored. He, at least, knew the game rules by heart. Gwendal, meanwhile, was idly leaning on his bat, his eyes following the ball flying in the field.
“Score!” Shibuya shouted excitedly.
They were on the same team, but Eldara wondered how Shibuya could be so cheerful. The king didn’t like him – he could read that in Shibuya’s eyes. It was not surprising either – Eldara could clearly remember the overwhelming shock on Shibuya’s face back then. The exact reason for that immense shock made Eldara curious. Shibuya didn’t like him much as a person. The king, however, seemed to have some lingering or, maybe, veiled feelings for his ex-fiancé as well. When one added both factors, that overwhelming shock on Shibuya’s face became much more reasonable.
During these past few days, Eldara had reevaluated Shibuya. He was less of a naïve child he had thought him to be and more of a young man who fought against all odds. Just as Wolfram had said. Even now, with the ominous mood around, the king was doing his best to conciliate everyone through a game. In a few months, the king was going to turn nineteen. So young. Eldara tried to remember what he was like when he was nineteen. Mistrustful and cruel, he had regarded the entire world as a dangerous nuisance that had to be subdued. He still mostly operated on that basis. Shibuya was completely different. To him, the entire world consisted of potential allies until proven otherwise, in which case he would still make it his business to turn them into allies. Was it a coward’s way of life? Perhaps. Eldara wondered which lifestyle required more energy. Shibuya, however, was surrounded by capable people: von Voltaire, von Christ, The Great Sage, von Spitzweg, Gurrier and Weller. All of them were loyal to a fault. If not for these people, Shibuya would be lost. If fate were favorable to Shibuya, Wolfram would stand beside him as well. He would probably be one of his greatest assets. Maybe someday.
Eldara hit the ball again with his bat and this time it flew towards Yozak, who launched himself in its direction at once. Gurrier was enjoying himself immensely. Long ago, he had found the king’s love for baseball infectious.
- - -
It was a cold day. The spring was late to come to Shin Makoku. The people who were gathering in the Temple of Love were shivering. It had a hearth going, but it was still very early in the morning and it hadn’t had enough time to heat up the temple yet.
There were mostly Elite Guards and several low-ranking soldiers who had gathered to watch Hurbert and Oilira’s wedding ceremony. The front row in the middle, however, was impressively filled with nobility: Gunter von Christ, Gwendal von Voltaire, Wolfram von Bielefeld and von Ashira of Raizgad. Overall, there were about thirty people.
The priestess was in front of the altar, arranging something. On the left side of the altar, stood the military band. The trombonist was blowing out a soft, syrupy melody while everyone was waiting for the couple to show up.
The couple came right on time, the trombonist changed the tune and was joined by the other musicians. The bride looked jumpy but her face radiated happiness. She was wearing a simple white robe without any adornments. The only jewelry she had was the dark red pin in her hair. Morgan Hurbert was wearing his military uniform with all his awards and medals fastened on it. He was grinning and nodding in thanks to his friends’ loud congratulations.
The pair approached the altar and stopped in front of the priestess. The music stopped. The priestess raised her hands towards the couple, greeting them and simultaneously silencing the audience.
“We have gathered today to witness two people binding their lives together,” she said, looking at the spectators.
She turned to the woman. “Amaljea Oilira, are you marrying this man of your own free will?”
While sitting further, it was impossible to tell what she answered, but her lips did move, and the priestess continued the ceremony. She turned to Hurbert.
“Morgan Hurbert, are you marrying this woman of your own free will?”
“Yes, I am.”
Hurbert’s words were firm and convincing. Gwendal couldn’t help looking at von Christ. Gunter wasn’t happy with his nephew’s choice of the lowborn bride but Hurbert was also the bastard son of his sister and the only thing Gunter could do was support the newlyweds. Gwendal, watching him, thought that no matter what Wolfram would decide, he would also have to sit back and watch him marry his choice. It was better than feeling guilty for any kind of misfortune later in their marriage.
“Are you ready to share joys and mishaps with this man?”
Once again, Amaljea answered so softly that it was impossible to hear, but obviously she said the right thing since the priestess continued. She turned to Hurbert and repeated the question.
“Yes, I am,” he answered.
The priestess reached out for the white ribbon lying on the altar. She took it and dabbed its end into a golden chalice with the water from Shinou’s Temple. She held out the wet end of the ribbon for everyone to see then brushed with it over Hurbert’s forehead. She did the same to Oilira. Hurbert held out his right hand while the bride did the same with her left.
“With the First King’s permission,” the priestess said, wrapping the ribbon around their wrists, “in the name of Ranmun, I pronounce you husband and wife.”
Applause rose in the temple, everyone cheering.
“Would you like to exchange tokens?” the priestess asked the newlyweds.
“Yes, please,” Hurbert said while fishing in his pocket with his left hand. He pulled out two bracelets and gave them to the priestess.
“These are the symbols of your love for each other,” she said while putting the larger bracelet on Morgan’s left upper arm. “Cherish one another and cherish them.” She put the smaller one on Amaljea’s right arm.
Again, cheers and applause rose into the air.
Once the ceremony was over, everyone went to the nearby tavern to celebrate the wedding. When everyone had been seated and was waiting for the food to be delivered, the husband was presented with the promised money for the love nest. Morgan, who himself had asked for such a gift, acted very surprised and even managed to squeeze out a grateful tear or two, which greatly amused his friends and colleagues who knew what kind of person he was.
The food and strong drinks started appearing on the tables, and Yozak joked in his speech about how sad he was to see one of the best men he knew lose his freedom. He wished the newlyweds all the best and everyone drank to it.
The newlyweds sat at the end of the tavern where they could see and be seen by all the guests. Their hands were still tied by the ribbon, which was going to come off only during their wedding night. Currently, they were feeding each other and laughing at the same time.
Once the military band had satisfied their thirst and hunger, they grabbed their instruments and the merriment began. The music shook the tavern, laughter and songs filling the air.
Eldara pushed his plate away – the food was god-awful. It was some kind of meat with gravy. While the meat was alright, the gravy was a bloody mass seemingly straight from battlefield itself. He had eaten the mashed potatoes and the salad but no one was going to make him eat the rest. He washed down the taste with wine and turned to Wolfram, who was still eating.
“I am surprised that Original King stands higher than deities,” he told Wolfram. “I mean you need His permission to marry to people,” he explained when the blond gave him a blank look.
“Oh, that. It’s just a tradition. Since he was the one who founded Shin Makoku, and all citizens were His subjects we still ask His permission to marry.”
Eldara nodded. “Yes, I understood that. However, isn’t that bothersome? And have there been any cases when he denied permission?”
Wolfram thought for a moment. “To be honest, I’ve never thought about that. In fact, I don’t think they really ask for permission. They probably just go and fill the chalice with the water from His temple and that’s it.”
Eldara shrugged. “Probably. If He really didn’t want them to marry, wouldn’t He appear in front of them with storm and lightning during the wedding ceremony?” he asked chuckling.
Wolfram gave him a funny look.
“What?” the duke wondered.
“For that He would have to possess Shibuya.”
Eldara was surprised. “Does He do that?”
“More often than you can imagine.”
“Oh. Really? I had no idea. Is this how it happens with all the kings of Shin Makoku?”
Wolfram shook his head. “No, it’s…uncommon.”
Eldara chuckled. “In that case, it is best we married in Raizgad. I am afraid that Shibuya would really appear in front of us and smite me. You did see how shocked he was.”
Wolfram glared at him. “Don’t ever remind me of that.”
Gwendal was watching Wolfram and von Ashira interact. He could often read “Shibuya” on their lips and was wondering what they were discussing.
Since the king wasn’t there, Wolfram seemed to be more relaxed. Lately, the two would tense up at the very sight of each other. That annoyed Gwendal, who wanted some kind of progress beyond that. He was certain that there was going to be progress, but the awkwardness between the two was annoying him. Shibuya acted like a prude while Wolfram was unreasonably embarrassed. Gwendal wanted to slap them both into reality.
While Gwendal continued watching, Wolfram and von Ashira had a few more drinks and seemed to relax completely. They were laughing often at Yozak’s silly jokes, and, at some point, Wolfram joined in the song sung by the soldiers and kept hollering together with them until his throat turned hoarse. Afterwards, most soldiers left the tables and started a circle of dancers. The majority was bad at it but no one cared.
Wolfram and Eldara joined in, attempted at a more gracious dance, but soon gave up as they kept bumping into drunken men. To tell the truth, the two weren’t very sober either. Everyone kept strutting around until they grew tired and rejoined the tables where they continued to nurse their drinks and nibble on the leftover food.
The fun continued to a little way past midnight until it was stopped by two soldiers getting into a fight over one of the tavern maids. Gwendal decided that it was about time for the guests to start dispersing and he quietly, but firmly, started urging everyone to go home. To his surprise, most of the trouble came from Wolfram, who was completely against leaving “such a great party”. He wasn’t very drunk, but his mood bordered between terrific and destructive. In the end, it was Conrart who, with a promise of a great swordfight tomorrow, managed to convince him to wrap it up.

TBC
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