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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
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: A tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.
A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram’s uncle exists.
A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter’s name is a bother.

Bloom
by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com), beta-read by HARPG0
Part 8
“Your Grace, I think I did mention something about him needing rest?”
“Tell that to von Bielefeld.” Looking at the doctor, the duke leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers. He stretched his legs out under the desk. “He nearly managed to drown himself in the pool then went berserk, broke Rigon’s nose, and then nearly castrated him.”
“Oh, really?” the doctor asked in detached interest. “And did the near-drowning happen accidentally?”
Eldara gave the doctor a look. The doctor met his eyes evenly and it was Eldara who lowered them; the doctor knew him all too well.
“Yes, it was an accident.”
“Very good, Your Grace. Now, at least, I know that I am not wasting my time with a goner.”
Eldara smiled sharply. “So what’s wrong with him?” he asked, not wanting to pursue that particular topic.
“I can’t say anything about his mental state until I talk to him, Your Grace. My guess, however, would be that he might have experienced a nervous breakdown due to the high stress level and then has become aggressive. Under stress, full-blooded Demons are particularly prone to aggressiveness. It’s a defense mechanism.” The doctor shrugged. “Well, I’m certain you know that, Your Grace.”
“Yes, unfortunately, I know that particularly well. Anything else, Doctor?”
“Well, his physical condition hasn’t worsened except for a few bruises and minor injuries to his right hand. I cleaned out the glass shards from it. I think he will be able to use it in a week or so. How did that happen?”
“He broke a bottle, intending to use it as a weapon.”
“I see. He’s one feisty Demon.”
“And that’s one too many in my castle,” the duke sighed. “I want to get rid of him as soon as possible.” The doctor was giving him that look again. “While he is still alive, preferably,” Eldara specified. “You heal him as soon as possible and I will ship him off to his dearest brother.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “However, von Bielefeld doesn’t put much effort into helping himself out,” he pointed out. “It’s as if he’s trying to prolong his stay.”
“His brother… Von Voltaire? The man who’s practically ruling Shin Makoku?”
The duke nodded, confirming the unpleasant fact, “Yes, that’s von Voltaire.”
“What does he think of this, Your Grace?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure yet of hearing what he thinks. Unfortunately, he’s very fond of von Bielefeld. I expect von Voltaire will send his people in to make sure I treat his little brother with all the respect and dignity he deserves or thinks he deserves.”
“Does he, actually?” the doctor wondered. “I haven’t had any opportunity to talk to him yet.”
“Currently, he’s too unbalanced; I can’t impart any judgment. He simply struck me as… In fact, he looked like a kid trying to play a man’s role. It was quite amusing. However,” he added, “I’m afraid that he was playing that role much better than my brother.”
The doctor kept quiet. Eldara was too firm and patronizing for his own sake. He knew where it was coming from but one day both Halea and Athara were going to hate him. The duke needed someone else to occupy his time. Right now, all his attention and care were concentrated on his siblings. Eldara, an efficient man, could generate a lot of attention and care, which was not always healthy. The doctor rolled his eyes.
“I saw you do that.”
“Very good, Your Grace. I hope you can make something of that.”
“And how could my father stand you?”
“He couldn’t, in fact, Your Grace. But a pain in the back or a broken bone makes me tolerable.”
“Lovely.”
“Indeed, Your Grace.”
“So, tomorrow at eleven, as usual?”
“Certainly, Your Grace. Good night. Or should I say good morning.”
“Goodnight. My coachman will drive you back, of course. Thank you very much for coming,” Eldara said, looking out the dark window. It was two in the morning; everyone except for the guards was asleep. The doctor had come as soon as he was summoned. Von Bielefeld had stayed fast asleep the entire time while he had been carried from the bathroom and to his room and while the doctor had been examining him. The man must have been exhausted.
“Oh, right!” the doctor said, turning around on his heel sharply in the doorway. “I almost forgot. He has lice, Your Grace. Tomorrow I will tell the nurse to get something for that. My advice, though, would be he cut that mat of hair. I doubt any comb would be able to deal with the task of combing it out in any case.”
“I’ll talk to him about this. I’m afraid he’s somewhat narcissistic; it will be hard to convince him to cut it.”
“Do your best, Your Grace,” the doctor said, “or soon you and Halea will be the ones cutting your hair.”
Eldara’s eyebrows shot up. “If he resists,” he said resolutely, “I’ll personally tie him up and shave him bald.”
“Wonderful, Your Grace. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Doctor.”
---
Wolfram woke up to the sunlight on his face. He blinked slowly then looked at the window where the curtains were open. The sun was partly hidden behind one of the castle turrets. Was it evening already? Which day was it? The only thing he knew was that he badly wanted to go to the bathroom.
Disoriented, Wolfram sat up in the bed. He startled at the sight of the nurse asleep in a chair in the corner of the room. There was a half-eaten apple on her lap, her fingers wrapped loosely around it. Wolfram looked around. There was no one else in the room. Nothing had changed from the last time he had seen it. There was the same fruit bowl on the large table in the middle of the room. The fruits were different, though, fresh. The table occupied most of the room. There were four chairs at it, just as the table, made of dark oak.
On Wolfram’s right side, just beside the bed at the wall, there was a dark oak wardrobe. On the other side of the bed was a night stand, also oaken but of lighter color than the rest of the furniture. On the opposite side of the room, at the wall, stood a gigantic dressing table with a mirror. There were also a few paintings on the walls. The most interesting one was with a shepherd riding a sheep, other sheep following him. The funny thing was that the shepherd looked somewhat like a general riding off into battle, leading his men, his pipe raised like a sword. Wolfram could hardly think of a reason why the painting had been hung here, but it made him nostalgic when he thought back about the villagers at the fort.
The bed linens had been changed as well; he could still smell the soap. The bed was half-covered with a blue spread to keep him warm. Wolfram touched himself on the head. Frowning, he lowered his bandaged hand. His hair was still an oily mess of dirt. Changing the linens for him had been a waste.
Heavy, velvet curtains hung alongside of the window on Wolfram’s left. They were dark violet and suddenly, reminded Wolfram of the duke’s hair color. Wolfram tried to shove this thought back where it came from. It didn’t work and he suddenly was forced to face more of his memories. Embarrassment flooded him like hot lead. He closed his eyes slowly and tried to pretend he didn’t exist.
A few minutes later, his bursting bladder and rumbling stomach told him clearly that he did, in fact, exist. Wolfram opened his eyes and climbed out of the bed. By doing that he found out that he was absolutely naked. Not wanting to scare the nurse in case she woke up (however, he suspected that she had not only seen all of his dangly bits already but, as a nurse, had also seen things a lot worse than them), he pulled the blue cover off his bed and wrapped it around his midsection. His slippers were on the rug next to the bed.
Wolfram reached the table in the middle of the room and then the chair where the bathrobe he had used earlier hung. Vaguely, he remembered the duke promising Athara’s clothes but maybe, after the circus in the baths, he wasn’t entitled to them anymore.
Once dressed, even if it was only a bathrobe, Wolfram felt more confident. Leaving the nurse to sleep peacefully in her chair, he went into the corridor. Two guards there gave Wolfram long worried looks. Then, one said something. Wolfram offered him a bright smile in return and started walking down the corridor to where he knew the bathroom was. There was some hurried feet shuffling behind Wolfram but the guards didn’t try to stop him, simply falling into step behind him.
They reached the bathroom, and Wolfram wondered what they would do. But they didn’t follow him inside, which Wolfram appreciated immensely. It was warm in the bathroom, which at first surprised the blond. After looking around, though, he noticed a few iron pipes. Central heating was a novelty in Shin Makoku and Gwendal was trying to figure out the best way to implement it into the ancient castle without tearing it apart. It seemed that they were more advanced in Kardera. He couldn’t say he liked that.
The mirror made Wolfram shrink away from it again. He touched his yellowish forehead carefully. Then he took a look at his bandaged hand. He flushed red with embarrassment again. The duke didn’t like him to begin with. Now the man was going to like him even less.
“Half-Demon, huh?” Wolfram muttered. He wondered how many people knew that. Probably very few, only the closest ones. This was a valuable piece of information.
There was no blood in his urine this time, and he was relieved that he, at least, wouldn’t need to think about this problem. That kick to his groin had been unbelievably painful, and he had fretted that there might be some permanent damage. Men who did that to other men should die.
Wolfram blinked at the washbasin while trying to figure out how to wash his left hand while his right was bandaged; that man probably did. The duke did say that they were going to be hanged. Wolfram decided he wasn’t going to think about that.
The blond left the bathroom and headed back to his room. He reached the corridor where his room was, crossed half of the carpeted floor then suddenly staggered. He was taken aback by how the corridor suddenly expanded in his vision. He heard the guards say something. Then, one of them caught him before he slumped to the floor. Wolfram found himself staring up at a bearded face. The guard said something to him again, and Wolfram shook his head, indicating he didn’t understand him. He regretted the action as it made him even dizzier.
The blond wanted to protest when the guard lifted him and started carrying towards his room. However, even if his pride hurt, he realized the pointlessness of that – he would not be able to walk on his own.
When they entered the room, the nurse woke up with a start, jumped to her feet, and rushed over to them. The blond could hear the apple thumping to the floor and rolling over it. She followed the guard to the bed where he lowered Wolfram. He stayed beside the bed while the nurse fussed around the blond.
In fact, Wolfram felt fine, only somewhat dizzy. He didn’t really understand what was going on. The nurse was asking something but he couldn’t understand a thing she was saying.
“She asked you when it was last time you ate.”
Wolfram turned to the door to see Eldara approaching.
“Oh…” The blond blinked at him. He suddenly realized how absurd it all was; he had fainted from hunger. “Oh…” he repeated. He was supposed to have eaten yesterday, but then the incident in the baths…
“Have a light snack. Don’t overeat, though, or you’ll be sick. And later, you are welcome to join us at the dinner table.”
Wolfram squirmed uncomfortably on the sheets. “Thank you. I’m very sorry for t-”
The duke raised his hand to quiet him down. He found it ridiculous that a man in a sickbed was trying to apologize. The blond had no idea how pitiful he looked lying there helplessly with ghastly pale skin, a bandaged hand, and knotted and lice-infested hair.
“If you apologize to Rigon, I will consider it never happened.”
The blond watched him thoughtfully. This was a test again. It seemed that, with the duke, every little thing was a test. The duke wanted to see if he would indeed apologize to a servant. The problem was that Wolfram didn’t know which outcome would please the duke. He felt that it was not wise to disappoint the man while he was under his protection.
The blond nodded. “I will.”
“Splendid,” Eldara said. He motioned the wardrobe next to the bed. “The clothing is there. Choose anything you wish.”
“Thank you.”
“There is one matter, though,” the duke said, making Wolfram tense up. “It would be best if you cut your hair.”
“Why?” Wolfram asked, at once feeling protective of his hair. People often complimented his hair. Even Yuuri had complimented it.
“You have lice. Besides, it is doubtful you will be able to brush it out.” By the way the blond was staring at him with a horrified look on his face, Eldara realized that this was probably first time Wolfram had lice.
“Lice?” Wolfram repeated numbly. “I have lice?”
“Mm… Yes?” He didn’t understand why the blond was so shocked about this. Indeed, the man was narcissistic to his bones. “Simply cut it short. It will grow back in no time.”
Wolfram touched his hair. It did feel unpleasant, the entangled and oily mass. He was going to have to cut it, wasn’t he? Then Wolfram returned to his previous thought: Yuuri had complimented his hair, hadn’t he? The blond was suddenly overcome with bitterness. Why was it that he still tried to cater to Yuuri?
“No problem,” Wolfram said. “I’ll cut it as soon as I eat. I wouldn’t want to spread them around,” he added after the duke gave him a somewhat surprised look. It was obvious that the man hadn’t expected him to give in so easily.
“Very well. I’ll inform my barber.”
The duke left, and Wolfram found himself staring at the ceiling. He still felt weakness in his limbs and just lay on his back while listening to the nurse discussing something with one of the servants. Later the voices broke off, and he heard the door close as the servant hurried off to fulfill the orders he had been given.
“Could have been worse,” Wolfram muttered. His eyes kept roaming over the ceiling. He could have been killed or tortured. He could have been sold or raped. Or everything at once could have happened. In comparison to that, waking up in Kardera was a gift from above. Wolfram wondered briefly if there was another room above the ceiling and who lived there. The duke wasn’t an unpleasant man, he was simply…forceful. Wolfram wasn’t very good with people like that. Gwendal was forceful, maybe even more than Eldara, but Gwendal was his brother and he was sometimes allowed the luxury of telling Gwendal to shove it where the sun does not shine. It wouldn’t work with the duke.
Wolfram grinned at the ceiling imagining the duke’s face. Maybe he should try that. Just to see the reaction.
“Ah, I see Your Highness is in a good mood.”
The blond turned his head to look at a man who had just entered the room.
“I’m Roldan Efibus, your doctor, Sir.”
“Pleased to meet you. Thank you for taking care of me.”
Approaching the bed, the doctor nodded in answer. “I hear Sir fainted today?”
“Yes. That was probably because I haven’t been having regular meals for quite some time.”
“Well, yes, that would definitely do that, Sir.”
Wolfram took a more careful look at the doctor. The man had the face of a hard-working man, maybe of a friendly coacher, but there was also something about it suggesting that he liked using a whip on his horses as well.
“You are His Grace’s personal doctor, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Sir. It could be put like that. In general, I look after the health of von Ashira household.”
The whip must be handy: Wolfram could imagine that it took three men and five horses to keep the duke down in bed even when he was fevered.
“Does Sir experience any pains, discomfort?”
“Mmm… No, not really.”
“What about Sir’s head? Any spells of dizziness, headache?”
“No, not anymore.”
“Was there any blood in Sir’s water?”
Wolfram blanched at this. “No, today there wasn’t any and it doesn’t hurt anymore,” he said, putting into his answer all information he could manage so that the doctor wouldn’t need to ask him anything else.
Under normal circumstances, the doctor would have asked for permission to examine him, but the way the blond tensed up suddenly, made him change his mind. The young von Bielefeld didn’t feel secure and, keeping in mind the incident in the baths, right now it was better not to push him into anything he didn’t want.
Both of them turned to look at the door as there was a brief knock and then the servant whom Wolfram had seen hurrying off to fulfill the nurse’s instructions entered. He was carrying a tray. The blond’s heart rate suddenly sped up, and his stomach rumbled. Saliva flooded his mouth and only then did he realize that all this time he had really been starving.
“Don’t eat much and chew well, Sir,” the doctor warned after catching the feral look on the blond’s face.
Wolfram nodded quickly. He was already climbing out of the bed, his ravenous eyes following the tray’s journey from the door to the large table in the middle of the room. He took a seat in front of a bowl of wondrously aromatic soup. Wolfram wanted to lift the plate and drink it at once like an uncouth hic. However, the presence of three people in the room forced Wolfram to pick up the spoon and take it slow. And he took it slow, frustratingly slow, as he wasn’t able to use his right hand.
It tasted heavenly. He chewed thoroughly on small pieces of potatoes, chicken, and noodles. It was pure bliss. He finished the bowl and wanted more but there was nothing else on the tray. Wolfram’s hungry eyes went to the large fruit bowl on the table but the doctor’s voice made him turn away from it.
“In a few minutes Sir will feel as if he has eaten a horse; I suggest Sir leaves that bowl of fruit alone.”
With one last look at the fruits, filled with longing, Wolfram left the table and went back to bed. He didn’t feel like he had eaten a horse, but, true enough, soon he felt full and sleepy.
He woke up to the sound of someone whispering. However, there was no one in the room when he looked around. It was just heavy rain chattering and falling down the window. It was hard to tell which time of day it was. Wolfram realized he had slept through the dinner he had been invited to. There was not much guilt, though; the duke would surely understand. Besides, it was not as if he had wanted to go – every time he met the man, there was always some kind of trial presented to him.
Wolfram turned to his side to stare at the flowing rain. Soon it was going to start snowing in Kardera. Winter would always come to Kardera almost two weeks earlier than to Shin Makoku. He didn’t like winters, neither did he particularly like summers. He liked springs and autumns but, even then, he liked them only when it wasn’t too cold or too hot or too rainy.
“Hmm…”
Gwendal was right – he was unbelievably hard to please.
Wolfram looked at his bandaged hand. The doctor had said nothing about it, thus it was probably going to be alright. Served him right. He touched his hair. He still needed to cut it and put himself in order. If he had to go and join the whole von Ashira family at dinner, he had to look presentable.
Even if that meant he was going to have to wear the duke’s younger brother’s clothing, and, at the same time, try not to spill anything on it while eating with his left hand.
Wolfram groaned softly. However, the prospective indignity was soon drowned out by his rumbling stomach. He was hungry and wanted to go to the bathroom. He chose to go to the bathroom first.
There were two different guards at his door this time; the watch change must have transpired while he had been asleep. The guards were unnerved by him but followed him mutely. Obviously, they had been informed that it was pointless to talk to him as he couldn’t understand.
When Wolfram returned to his room, he saw that nothing had changed; there was still no one there. It seemed he had been forgotten. He sat down at the table and ate three different fruits. Feeling full, he rose and went to inspect the wardrobe. Just as the duke had said, it was filled with clothes. They were a little too glittery for Wolfram’s taste as he was more used to plain uniforms and shirts but beggars couldn’t be choosers. However, he couldn’t help thinking that his taste in clothing ran closer to the older von Ashira’s than his brother’s.
Wolfram picked a shirt and a pair of trousers that he preferred and closed the wardrobe door. He wanted to take a bath again and to cut his hair. He wasn’t certain which should come first.
“Oh.”
The blond turned his head to the door to see the nurse enter the room. She had come in without knocking but Wolfram dismissed this as her not wanting to wake him up in case he was still asleep.
Wolfram pointed at his head then took a handful of his matted hair and tried to scissor with his bandaged fingers. His attempt was rewarded with sharp pain. He winced and frowned but the nurse nodded her head in understanding and opened the door to say something to one of the guards. She returned into the room and took her usual seat in the corner.
Feeling self-conscious, the blond sat down on the bed to wait. He was suddenly caught in a bout of itch. He was scratching his head furiously, when he suddenly remembered why exactly he was scratching it. Disgusted, he removed his hand. The nurse smiled at him encouragingly. That only made it worse as Wolfram wasn’t certain what she was encouraging him to do. To scratch a hole through his head? He returned an awkward smile.
Goddamn that Eldara! Couldn’t he finally find someone who could speak at least a garbled Shin Makoku dialect? Anyone would do!
After about ten minutes of uncomfortable waiting, there was a knock on the door and a man, whom Wolfram deemed to be a barber, entered the room.
“Your hair, Sir, cut?” he asked or stated, lowering a bundle of something that jingled on the table.
Wolfram nodded and walked over to him.
“Sir, short cut hair?”
“Yes, short cut hair,” Wolfram answered and immediately was overtaken by immense feeling of guilt; just a minute ago he had been begging for anyone who could at least utter a few words in any dialect. “Yes, please, cut it short,” he corrected himself. It was obvious that the word order differed in the two languages. At least the man was making an effort.
Only then did the barber seem to notice the hairy entangled mass on Wolfram’s head. He appeared to be aghast but recovered in a second. He pulled one of the chairs farther off the table and showed Wolfram to sit down. When he did, the barber eyed the heap of dirty and infested blond hair again.
“Short cut hair, alright, Sir?” he said, a little unsure.
“Yes. Just cut it.”
Wolfram watched puffs of entangled hair fall on the cover on his lap. There were an awful lot of them. He poked one particularly big and greasy. Take that, Yuuri. Maybe he should shave his head bald?
Wolfram shuddered at the thought. Even Yuuri wasn’t worth such sacrifice.
“Finish,” said the barber about twenty minutes later.
“Thank you.”
His head felt much lighter. Interested, Wolfram patted himself on the head. He grimaced both at the startling shortness and greasiness. The barber deserved a reward for working in such drastic conditions. Only that currently Wolfram was as poor as a temple mouse and could only give promises.
It took Wolfram some time to explain to the nurse what he wanted next. In the end, the barber joined him and, in a few minutes, the blond had a bottle of lice killing shampoo in his hands. He was also informed of a few instructions of its usage.
“Tub baths in ten minutes,” the barber interpreted the nurse’s prattle.
Wolfram nodded to show that he had understood and sat down to wait. The barber didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Maybe he was waiting for his general approval on his job well done? Wolfram didn’t particularly want to look at himself right now, but decided to get on with it and went to the wardrobe. The mirror was on the other side of the door.
“Ugh,” he said at the sight of himself. Realizing how that sounded, he squeezed out a smile and clapped himself on the head a few times in what should have passed as content pats.
The barber gave him a fearful look, gathered his tools and rushed out of the room with a very polite goodbye. Wolfram was aware that he didn’t manage to fool anyone. Short. His hair was very short. It was also oily and stuck to his head like a glove. He looked like a drowned rat. Yes, definitely a rat with a yellowish bump on its forehead.
Wolfram closed the door and decided to pretend he hadn’t seen anything. Otherwise, he might just go hysterical again.
Tbc
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Bloom