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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
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. Eldara – 31. Halea – 20. Athara – 18.
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 9
The shampoo had an unpleasant smell and Wolfram was frowning while rubbing it into his hair. When he was done, he sat down on a bench to wait for ten minutes. This time, no servant went to the baths with him, and he was blissfully alone. He would have enjoyed it if not for the knowledge that nobody followed him. He was certain that the servants in the household were of the opinion that he was a dangerous nutcase.
They were probably right.
Sighing, Wolfram patted himself on his head. He wished for the little bastards to die faster.
After washing his hair, he climbed into the tub which had been prepared for him. This time, he didn’t even think about using one of the pools. Wincing and gritting his teeth in pain, he unwrapped the bandages off his right hand and threw them onto the floor. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, his hand: his fingers and palm had been cut in many places, the gashes red and swollen. He would not be able to wield a sword for some time. He was also too weak to use his fire element efficiently.
Wolfram reclined his head and closed his eyes. It seemed that he had to completely rely on the duke’s protection. Not that he believed there was any danger to him in the castle. His thoughts were much clearer now and he understood how his accusation and actions had been uncalled for. The man didn’t like him, but one could not afford to be enemies with Shin Makoku. Gwendal von Voltaire wasn’t someone you wanted to mess around with.
He would have liked some assistance – it took him awhile to wash himself with one hand. Washing his hair had already been a feat in itself. It took him some skill to dress in his bathrobe without aggravating his right hand too much.
When Wolfram walked back to his room, he found a man standing at the door, near the guards. It was a Human of about fifty; brown-haired, his forehead and the top of his head were already marked by an early loss of hair. When Wolfram came closer, the man bowed.
“Your Highness.”
“Yes? Hello,” Wolfram said, brushing over his damp hair with a towel. It was awkward to stand on the carpet in front of the door in only a bathrobe and slippers while the guards and the man were staring at him.
“I’m Ahezi Forena, Sir. Your interpreter.”
“Oh.” It was a surprise actually. Wolfram had been certain that he would have to go around without one at least for two more weeks. He nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, Sir.”
Ahezi was nervous. Wolfram could see that. He wondered what kind of myths the servants had created about him. Or, maybe, it was something the duke had said.
“I will dress myself and then we will discuss everything,” Wolfram said, opening the door to his room. “I’d like to dress alone, if you please,” he added when the interpreter wanted to follow him. The man gave him a confused look then blushed.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Sir!” he exclaimed anxiously.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Wolfram muttered shutting the door behind himself.
Even though it took a great deal of grunting and wincing, Wolfram somehow managed to dress. He looked at himself in the mirror. It wasn’t that bad. His hair had almost dried already and wasn’t sticking to his head so much (the short haircut was making him look even younger but Wolfram wasn’t so certain that it was a bad thing). The green jacket and black trousers did glitter but they also made the yellowish spot on his forehead less noticeable. He couldn’t see but could feel the underwear that wasn’t his. It wasn’t very comfortable – it was too loose and drafty. He knew he was only imagining things but habits were habits. It was first time he was wearing someone else’s underwear. He hoped it would also be the last.
Wolfram went to open the door and invited Ahezi inside. They sat down at the table where the interpreter told the blond that he had been put up in one of the rooms in the castle and was going to be at his service at any time during his stay.
The knock on the door startled Wolfram; he had almost forgotten the sound. He gave the permission to enter and the duke walked into the room. Eldara met the sight of the interpreter sitting next to Wolfram with approval. He nodded at Ahezi then turned to the blond. If he thought anything of Wolfram’s considerably shorter hair, his face didn’t show it.
“Would you care to join us for lunch, Wolfram?”
“Well, yes…”
The uncertain manner of the blond’s answer made the duke notice the way he favored his hand, keeping it slightly away from himself and how the interpreter was inconspicuously sniffing the air. Wolfram had just taken a bath and, suddenly, Eldara was suspicious that no one had attended to him. That made him furious. It wouldn’t do anyone, especially when that “anyone” was a von Bielefeld, saying that he was an unwelcoming host.
“Where’s Mela?”
“Mm… Who?”
“The nurse,” the duke specified.
Wolfram saw Eldara looking at his hand, and the displeasure in the duke’s lower than usual voice and eyes told Wolfram that the nurse was out of favor. He wasn’t certain what happened when one was out of the duke’s favor. It was probably best not to know.
“I don’t know,” he said, without any desire to interfere with a master’s relationship with his servant. “She was here just before I went to the baths.” Wolfram hoped that the woman would at least bring some tea with her when she returned. Then he thought that he could have easily avoided all this by saying that she had excused herself to go to the bathroom. But it was too late now.
The duke gave Wolfram a look and, with that, the nurse, carrying a tray with what seemed to be swathes and ointments, entered the room. She curtsied and went to lay it down onto the table then turned to Wolfram, and said something.
“She will treat and bandage your hand, Sir,” the interpreter translated quickly.
Wolfram sat down at the table, not missing the approving nod the duke gave Ahezi for translating the sentence. Eldara watched the nurse’s gentle fingers spreading the ointment over the blond’s injured hand for a few seconds, then, deciding that there was nothing of interest, turned his attention back to the interpreter.
“You don’t need to attend lunch,” he said to the translator. “It is in fifteen minutes.” His words now were directed at Wolfram. “You really don’t need to worry about your awkward left hand or the smelly ointment in your hair; we’ve certainly seen worse. Now, if you’d excuse me.”
Not certain how to take this, Wolfram watched the duke exit the room. Were these the words of encouragement or was the duke laughing at him? The interpreter, however, had had a revelation – now he knew what it was in the room which stank so much. Then Wolfram became aware that he could hear the duke’s soft reprimanding voice behind the door as he was talking to the guards.
---
From across the table, Wolfram smiled at Halea politely. He was somewhat suspicious of the seating arrangement but it wasn’t that he disliked it – it was certainly better than to be seated opposite the duke.
“So how are you feeling, Wolfram?” Athara asked while one of the servants was filling his plate with what looked like fried fish in a rich, reddish sauce.
“Thank you, much better,” Wolfram answered thinking that if he was so interested, he should have just come and visited him in his room. Then, he thought that the duke probably hadn’t permitted that for the safety reasons. “I’m very sorry for that incident in the baths. I wasn’t myself.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Athara said, waving it off dismissively with his hand.
“Yes, forget it,” Halea said. “You should see Eldara in the mornings,” she chuckled. “In comparison to that, you…”
Wolfram became aware that she didn’t know how to finish her thought as she suddenly realized that she could easily insult him by choosing wrong words. Halea’s lapse was immediately corrected by the duke clearing his throat and raising his glass of wine to toast him.
“All’s well that ends well. Isn’t that right, Wolfram?”
The blond nodded and raised his glass as well to salute him. “Certainly, Eldara.” The duke’s name felt so alien on his tongue that he nearly winced.
The duke noticed his reaction and laughed softly. He was aware of the fact that, in Shin Makoku, the tradition of using the last name for elder people was prevalent. “You make me feel old,” he chuckled, taking a sip from his glass.
“Ah, I didn’t mea-” Wolfram started.
“Well, you are older,” Halea said. “By eleven years, to be exact. You’re twenty, Wolfram, aren’t you? As me.”
The surprise was great and Wolfram didn’t manage to hide it. He realized that Halea had intended to make him feel better but, instead, he was astonished. All this time, he had believed that Eldara was only a couple of years older than him. Certainly, it didn’t make any difference in the long run, but there was a huge difference when one was twenty and the other thirty-one.
“I am half-Human, Wolfram,” the duke reminded him, surprised by Wolfram’s surprise.
If they were in Shin Makoku, he would definitely have said “half-Demon”. Wolfram wondered how the fact had somehow slipped past his perception. He had known and he hadn’t. It was, very likely, the result of his ungodly state in the baths at the time when he had been given the details.
“Well, yes, I did,” Wolfram agreed. “It had somehow escaped me.”
Wolfram had the same fish Athara had been eating and then ate a bowl of lentil soup. He liked the food. He guessed that the menu had been specially adapted to him: there was no food on the table which was hard to digest and there weren’t any extravagant dishes. He was grateful for that.
It was a little awkward, the atmosphere at the lunch table. Ironically, that was probably because Halea was trying so hard to make him feel welcome. The duke seemed to be amused by her attempts while Athara watched her with evident surprise in his eyes.
After lunch, the blond returned to his room to rest. He felt much better but it had still required a lot of energy to attend lunch. It hadn’t been as bad as he had imagined. He lay down on the bed intending to close his eyes for a few minutes but, when he woke up, it was evening already.
Confused, Wolfram looked around. Then, when the sound repeated itself, he realized that he had been awakened by a knock at the door.
“Yes?” he croaked groggily, rubbing at his face.
“It’s Roldan Efibus.”
“Who?”
“Your doctor, Your Highness.”
“Oh, right. Come in,” Wolfram said, a little embarrassed for not remembering the name.
“And how does Sir feel today?” the doctor asked. He walked over to the bed, lowered his case to the floor. It was dark in the room. The blond was sitting on the bed, obviously, just awakened. “We’ll need more light, Sir. I will ask someone to light the candles, may I?”
The blond nodded, yawning. “I’m much better. I got a little tired during lunch and then dozed off.”
On his way to the door, the doctor’s steps slowed down. He turned around to look at the blond. “Sir can refuse to attend meals. Spending time in His Grace’s presence can be stressful,” he added carefully after Wolfram gave him an uncertain look. “Sir can always say He is still not feeling well.”
Without saying a word, the blond shook his head. The doctor shrugged and continued walking towards the door. He opened the door and asked one of the guards to bring something so that there would be more light in the room.
“Thank you for the advice,” Wolfram said when the doctor returned, “but I had a good time.” He was exaggerating a great deal but he wasn’t going to admit anything.
“I see. Does Sir have any complaints?” the doctor asked. “Bouts of dizziness, any pains, headaches?”
“No. I feel a little weak, but no dizziness or pain.”
“Very good, Sir.” It seemed that von Bielefeld’s health was improving fast. He was sleeping a lot but that was to be expected after physical and mental exhaustion. Sleep was also the reason why he was getting better so quickly. It was also, probably, time to press the youngster with more private matters. “No red water as far as I understood?”
“Err… No. Everything seems to be fine.”
“No pains? No erectile dysfunction? Can Sir get an erection?” the doctor asked in explanatory tone when it was obvious from Wolfram’s blank face that he wasn’t certain what the doctor meant.
“I don’t know,” the blond answered after a pause. Even in the near darkness the doctor could see that von Bielefeld became concerned. All men reacted very sensitively to anything which had at least something to do with potency.
There was a knock on the door and a servant entered holding a burning candlestick in his hand. The candles and two oil lamps flared to life.
“There shouldn’t be permanent damage, Sir,” the doctor continued when the servant had left, “but it would be better to make certain that everything’s alright.”
“What? Right now?” Wolfram asked, incredulous, when the doctor just kept silent and kept on giving him an insistent look.
The doctor was tempted to tell him that they could wait for a few years and then see if it hadn’t rotten and fallen off by that time, but, instead, only gave a short encouraging smile.
“Yes. And I won’t touch anything, Sir,” he said when von Bielefeld moved away from him cautiously to the farther corner of the bed. He turned his back to the blond.
Wolfram grimaced at the doctor’s back. Then, seeing how he was left no choice, stood up and started unbuckling his belt. He more or less trusted the doctor, but also knew that he reported every tiny detail to the duke. And, as much as Wolfram didn’t want to be impotent, he also didn’t want the duke to know that.
He pulled his trousers and underwear down and sat down onto the bed. He took a look at his limp disinterested self nestling passively among blond curls. He didn’t remember getting an erection since he had been kicked in the groin. It didn’t even appear in the mornings. Maybe at night… Overtaken by a sudden bout of panic, Wolfram fisted himself and started stroking. It felt awkward to do it with his left hand, clumsy somehow. Nothing happened at first. Then, it began to stiffen and the blond exhaled in relief, his shoulders sagging.
“Everything’s fine,” he announced the results to the doctor, who, hearing his reassured voice, smiled at the opposite wall.
“That’s splendid, Your Highness.”
Momentarily, burning redness spread over Wolfram’s face and he quickly pulled his underwear and trousers on. Wolfram read more in the doctor’s voice: the fact that he was able to get an erection didn’t mean yet that he was able to orgasm and deposit seed. It was also a fact that he was going to try and see later if everything was functioning normally.
“What about eating, Sir? Any problems with digestion?” the doctor asked when the blond gave a sign that it was safe to turn around.
“No, no problems at all.”
“Very well. May I take a look at your forehead, Sir?”
“Yes, of course.”
Wolfram grunted painfully when the doctor’s fingers prodded at the yellowish lump. The doctor hadn’t been certain but now was assured that the skull underneath had been cracked. It would have been a guaranteed death for a Human. He removed his hand while watching the tension drain from the blond’s shoulders. He turned Wolfram’s head towards the oil lamp on the bedside cabinet and examined his eyes. Both of his pupils were of nearly the same size already. One could hardly notice the difference. The emerald-green eyes also were able to focus on and follow his fingers without failing.
“I’m glad to say that Sir’s health is improving at a very fast pace.”
Wolfram’s face brightened considerably. “And I’m certainly glad to hear that.”
Soon, after the doctor had left, the duke visited Wolfram asking if he would like to have dinner with him and his family. It was clear to Wolfram how it would come across if he refused; the doctor must have already assured the duke that he was in perfect health condition to attend it.
Sleeping with his clothes on gave them a few creases, but it was nothing too noticeable, and, after a couple of tentative glances at himself in the mirror and a visit to the bathroom, Wolfram went to attend dinner.
He had already noticed the additional attention the servants were giving during lunch. But, now, they were even sharper looking and, as soon as he asked for his plate to be filled with salad, two of the three hurried to him almost head-butting each other out of the way.
When Wolfram compared the servants to those in Blood Pledge Castle, here they were much more constrained, every command from their masters was fulfilled without any questions or delay. The tradition in Blood Pledge Castle was somehow not so strict. The servants served there all their lives and, then, their children undertook the task. Hence, everybody knew everybody and the master-servant relationships were much warmer.
In the middle of the dinner, a servant was sent to the kitchen to get more gravy. The gravy boat soon appeared in the door but it was carried by a different servant, and Wolfram suddenly knew where the catch was; it was the same servant he had unreasonably attacked in the baths. His nose was still black and blue. The duke expected him to apologize now, in front of everybody, even the servants. For a moment, he felt angry with the duke – couldn’t the man give him a break? But then he thought that, having promised to apologize and not done so, he probably, more or less, deserved that.
The servant carefully lowered the gravy boat onto the table then Wolfram stood up and called the servant’s name to get his attention. The man gave him a startled look.
“I offer my most sincere apologies for attacking you back then, in the baths. I hope I didn’t cause much damage. If I can be of any help…” he left it hanging hopefully.
The duke translated the words to the servant, who, then, started to fidget, obviously embarrassed and uncomfortable. He gave the blond a troubled smile, and words started pouring out of his mouth.
“He says it’s alright,” Eldara said to Wolfram. “He knows it hasn’t been done purposefully.”
The apology went smoother than Eldara had expected. He also hadn’t expected that von Bielefeld would take the servant’s appearance as a cue to apologize. It was probably better that he had, making the matter finally done and over with. The duke looked at the blond where he was giving the salad in his plate his full attention. He seemed to be hungry. The doctor had warned him about this – von Bielefeld’s appetite was going to increase and he would be continuously plagued by lethargy. Wolfram was unbelievably tenacious. Even the doctor was impressed at such a quick recovery rate. Were there a Human in his place, he would have died at least three times already: the hit to his head, which had cracked his skull would have been first; a Human wouldn’t have managed to reach the shore, then, when the pirates had been escaping; any other would have died of pneumonia after spending so much time in the ice-cold sea. Demons were creepy and dangerous.
“Is there any news from Shin Makoku?” Wolfram asked.
Eldara shook his head. “No, not yet. The sea has been stormy these past two days and the weather forecast is the same for tomorrow. But we should expect the news to reach us this week.”
“Actually, which weekday is it today?” Wolfram asked.
“It’s Wednesday,” Athara said.
Wolfram reached his hand out for the bowl of fruit on the table. Then, he gave a startled look to the servant who had raced to the table and grabbed the bowl, holding it out for him. Wolfram, whose hand now was stretched out past the bowl, laughed softly. He took an apple and leaned back into his chair.
---
The other two days were very similar to the previous one: he breakfasted, lunched, and had dinner with the whole von Ashira family. Most of other times he slept, had his hand tended to, washed his hair with the stinky liquid for lice again, bathed, had a few challenging conversations with the duke, and a few awkward ones with his sister. The interaction with Halea drove him into the corner as he felt it was his fault that they somehow couldn’t find common grounds. She did her best to choose neutral, light topics, but he still found himself being drained and soon could only think about what to say next. As a man, he felt disappointed in himself.
Athara, the youngest in von Ashira family, didn’t pay him much attention: he was polite, maintained the necessary level of conversation, asked about his health but never more. Athara kept his distance. But Wolfram, more or less, knew the type thanks to his days from studying at the Military Academy. Athara was trouble, a pure, walking trouble, and Wolfram tried to stay away from him as well.
---
Indeed, they received a letter from Shin Makoku on Saturday evening. The duke, so that there would be no suspicions on von Bielefeld’s side, asked him to come to his study to be present when the letter was opened. At his entrance to the study, Wolfram watched Eldara twirl the letter between his fingers. There was the Shin Makoku King’s seal on it. The duke seemed to be amused, and Wolfram knew why: Eldara had sent a letter to Gwendal von Voltaire and, now, had received a reply from the Demon King Himself.
“He believes I have you chained to a wall,” the duke said matter-of-factly, while Wolfram was seating himself in a chair opposite his desk. “In my dungeons,” he added for good measure, breaking the seal. He couldn’t really blame the man – his reputation gave von Voltaire enough grounds to suspect him of such. Wolfram, however, didn’t know and didn’t need to know that. “I am certain that he is going to send an army of servants to cater to your needs,” Eldara said, unfolding the letter.
Wolfram started to get annoyed by the unceasing flow of cynicism. “Well, they would at least be able to understand me.”
The duke nodded. “Yes, besides, you can also beat them up all to your heart’s content.”
Wolfram was shocked that Eldara mentioned that; he had believed it had been over with his apology. But the duke held his gaze calmly. Wolfram’s eyes flashed in anger. “It was an accident!”
“And it makes it alright?”
Wolfram was short of grabbing Eldara and shaking him for good measure. The duke became aware that he had overstepped the line. He liked teasing the blond but too much was too much.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”
“Just read the damn letter, Eldara!” Wolfram snarled at him, now painfully aware that it was only a game to the duke. He made it his business to turn every word into a battle of wills. Wolfram was also annoyed with himself for reacting so intensively to anything he said and playing into the duke’s hand.
The duke gave the blond a look. He suddenly felt compelled to tell von Bielefeld that the current haircut looked much better on him than the one he remembered seeing a few months ago. He looked sharper, more masculine. Saying that now, however, would only result in von Bielefeld getting suspicious of his words and taking them as an insult.
“Right.” The duke concentrated on the letter. “If the sea is benevolent,” he read, “they are going to be here in six days. Otherwise, they will have to wait for better weather.”
“Who’s ‘they’?” Wolfram asked.
“Your suite, apparently.” Eldara read further then lowered the letter onto the desk. “Congratulations, Wolfram. Your King gave you the status of the Royal Emissary. You are here to express His Royal Will.”
Wolfram stared at a very amused Eldara. “His Royal Will of what?” he asked, feeling like laughing as well; Gwendal and Yuuri were just too much.
The duke chuckled softly. “I’m afraid it doesn’t say here. You’ll have to figure that out on your own.” He pushed the letter over the desk for Wolfram to read it. “Your best shot would be that His Royal Will is for both countries to start a sea trading route. Or something like that at any rate. I can arrange a few meetings with merchants.”
“I think I’ll just wait for my suite to arrive,” Wolfram muttered absentmindedly, reading the letter; it was all just like the duke had read to him. “I’m not that good at trading. I wouldn’t want you to take advantage of that.” He folded the letter and returned it to Eldara.
“Now, now, Wolfram. I would definitely not take any advantage of you.” He could see that von Bielefeld hardly managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “How many of them do you think there will be?” Eldara asked.
Wolfram gave him a searching look. The duke’s right eyebrow rose at him. Wolfram wished he were more experienced, more cunning. He was out of his depths here.
“Don’t be so suspicious, Wolfram. I just want to make sure there are enough rooms for everyone. Do you really believe I would go against your brother? It would be foolish to make an enemy of him.”
“It would be,” Wolfram agreed. He knew, however, that this would be a good opportunity to start war; he could be a perfect hostage. It didn’t even depend on Eldara. If the King of Kardera gave his orders, the Duke of Raizgad could do nothing but obey.
Wolfram sighed. “There will probably be ten or twelve people. All male, in heavy armor, and trained to kill. No servants.”
Impressed, the duke rubbed his chin then lowered his hands to the desk. “Well, who can blame him? You’re his youngest brother,” he said, shrugging. “Family always comes first for von Voltaire.”
“Yes, that’s for certain,” Wolfram agreed.
“His family is his only weakness, isn’t it?”
Wolfram shrugged lightly. “Probably.” It’s your weakness, too, the blond thought.
Tbc
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Bloom