Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maoh!
It belongs to Tomo Takabayashi
This fanfiction is for entertainment. No money made from it.
I. First Step
Sickness
The day was filled with sadness and anger. Wolfram made way to a stone bench, and sat all his weight down, exhausted. Shoulders slouching, hands hanging between his open knees, he stared at the dark grass, allowing his body to get the much deserved rest. His sword stood against the bench, its tip dampening into the mud.
He had full filled his daily duty for today, even exceeding the usual number of hours he devoted to this. His heart, swollen with pain, was beating at a fast rythm, linked to his endless anxiety. To remain far away from the castle, and from Yuuri, was what he'd aimed at, by spending the whole day in his training field.
Sweat was rolling down his perfect nose and tiredness made his eyelids flutter with the constant effort to remain awake. His body had been fighting all day long with an uneven temperature; Wolfram either shook, out of a chill sensation, or out of heat. Nonetheless, his thoughts remained focused on one man. A man that he loathed and felt the deepest attachment for at the same time; and this was so painful. So extremely painful.
He heard someone approaching, which kind of forced Wolfram to stop thinking of Yuuri.
"My Lord, please, drink," Wolfram tilted his head, only to see one of his most trusted soldiers, Holger. He was handing out a leather gourd. "You've trained a lot today."
"Thank you." The young ex-prince took it and gulped first with the intention of drinking a few drops, before his thirsty and burning body urged him to slurp the whole content. The soldier eyed his master with worry; their commandant looked different from usual:
"Shall I tell the others to prepare our way back?"
"No," Wolfram answered, way more aggressively than he'd intended. Damn. He didn't want his earlier row with Yuuri to trample on his job as a military man. He desired more than everything to be able to control himself, to keep his cool...even if his heart was dying inside. "Let's wait an hour before going back to the castle."
Why? Why am I so weak?
"But my lord..."the soldier glanced at the darkening sky: "rain is coming...and the temperature has...gotten very low...Besides," his voice started to weaken: "You look sic-"
Wolfram shot him a stare. The intensity of it influenced the man to keep his mouth shut; lord von Bielefeld could be quite scaring. The soldier stammered, bowed and walked back to his comrades.
He's right. It's cold...And I should not let my private matters ruin my soldiers' health. A good commandant must take care of those trusted in his hands, first and foremost.
He swallowed the big lump that had blocked in his throat. His hands were shaking at the thought of going home. To meet him in the corridors put his mind in turmoil. They had left each other in such a bad blood that Wolfram wasn't even sure that Yuuri would want to see him either.
For the first time since he'd met Yuuri, Wolfram felt that both of them were really close to cancel their engagement. For real. The simple pronunciation of this made his heart beat as though he was standing on the edge of a cliff. He held his face in his hands, barely acknowledging the sweat gathering in his slippery palms. This nervousness was going to kill him! And his headache wouldn't stop.
"Holger!" Wolfram said.
The soldier, who had brought him the bottle, turned around from his group and trotted back to him.
"Yes, my lord?"
"Tell the others to pick up their stuff. We're heading back to the castle."
"Yes, my lord."
The return to the castle, on horse, was not void of pain. Wolfram wanted to throw up. Certainly, walking while his body felt so heavy didn' look like a good alternative either. He sniffed a sip of air, relieving in the soothing sensation that the extra take of oxygen gave him, and tightened his fists around the reins. He felt cold. As he focused on his ride, Wolfram didn't notice the worried looks from his soldiers.
The castle came in view after a while; guards were patrolling and watching around as usual. Wolfram looked up. His vision blurred while his heartbeat slowed. Was the rain so strong that...?
The last thing he heard was the voice of men crying his name. Among which, his soldiers' and Conrad's.
XXX
Voices. Buzzing around him. Hits on the head.
A moan escaped Wolfram's dry lips. He felt very soft lips kissing his forehead. The perfume was unmistakable.
"Mother..."
"Wolf? You're awake? Oh thank you Shinou! You scared us!"
In his painful state, the constant headache and slight nausea, Wolfram's vision was blurred. He was trying to recognize the people around that his eyes could not make out of the silhouettes fussing about him.
"Wolfram, can you hear us?"
Speaking felt like someone was scratching the inside of his throat. His eyebrows frowned as deeply they could.
"Y-yeah...?" Gisela had asked him the question and now, she was probably putting another humid towel on his forehead.
"You're feverish, Wolfram. Did you feel like this in the morning, too?"
"Wh-where am I?"
"In your bedroom."
Mine. Not Yuuri's. Not ours, I suppose.
"Did you, Wolfram?"
"Kind of."
"Wolf! You should have listened to your body instead of going to work, today," his mother nagged, but gently as she always did with her last son.
"Papa, do you want to drink something?"
"Greta? Water, please..." Soon after, someone softly pushed a glass filled with fresh water against his lips. Wolfram was under the impression to get back to life as the cool beverage traversed his throat. However, the weakness of his body prevented the ex-prince from holding the glass longer, or even from raising his neck. Moreover, whatever comfort water had brought was soon annihilated by his sickness. This felt like someone was pressing on his forehead constantly, and clenching his lungs.
"You may have a food intoxication coupled with exhaustion from over-working."
"I don't remember having eaten something bad..."
"Or maybe you've been working too much and have put too much stress on yourself. Moreover, it seems you lack sleep. No wonder, Wolfram, that your body couldn't take it."
"I've been fine," Wolfram grumbled, irritated at hearing those legitimate reproaches. Still, he was too tired and in pain to retort with bitterness. A sudden cough propelled him nearly sitting up, his lungs expelling the most violent shock ever. He could scarcely make out of the half-dozen voices saying his name in deep worry, hands patting his back in a soothing manner. As if air was leaving his body, Wolfram fell back on his mattress, out of breath.
"I think only his majesty Yuuri can bring-"
"N-no," Wolfram murmured, feverish "don't."
If he had been able to see well, the ex-prince would have caught his brothers exchanging a sad, perplexed glance. Their brother and Yuuri's relationship had fallen until a hopeless pit; Conrad and Gwendal were aware of that. These last few days, Yuuri and Wolfram had had the nastiest arguments that the whole castle had ever heard from the royal couple. For Conrad, it was the first time he'd ever seen Yuuri having such a hateful look when talking about Wolfram. First time he had seen so much anger, resentment and violence in the black eyes. Conrad himself felt perturbed. It seemed that Wolf's flaws were magnified to the point they were the only things the king could see from his fiancé. No wonder Yuuri had decided to leave some time to cool down on Earth with his friends, "to enjoy a true free time as a real Human, with friends and girls!". Of course, Wolfram hadn't been aware of such a plan. And if he had, Conrad thought with sorrow, what could the blond have done? At that point, Yuuri wouldn't have even been able to hear another "You cheater" from Wolfram. Maybe he would have hit something, or even Wolfram. This was no good.
Conrad let out a long sigh, unconsciously trying to release some nervousness. Raking his brown mane with his hand, he kept his eyes on his poor brother. Their mother and Greta were giving him medicine but the pallor of his cheeks were alarming.
Yes, it was definitely for the best for Yuuri to have taken some days off on Earth. Perhaps would he reflect better on solutions to heal his breached relationship with Wolfram. Something, though, seemed to have broken between them too deeply. More than he could admit it to himself, Conrad could feel worry gnaw at his heart at this thought. He knew how much Wolf felt for Yuuri; the new king had become the world for Wolfram. Now matter how calm the blond may appear in front of others, his issues with Yuuri tormented his soul and his spirit.
And yet, yet for the first time, for a few days, Conrad had perceived that his brother might have started to consider to give up on Yuuri. He had been able to see it upon catching the deep sadness and weariness flowing the green eyes. Wolfram was emotional, even though he tried his best not to show it. But now, he too had reached a breaking point. He couldn't take it any longer, mentally, physically; he was so used. How could he cope with his broken friendship with Yuuri, from now on?
"He's fallen asleep," Gisela said quietly. "We should leave him alone." His state had stabilized, in all appearance.
"I'll stay with him," Celi said without tearing her worried eyes away from the languid and fragilized silhouette of her third son. "I'll watch over him."
"Can we tell papa Yuuri about Wolfram?" Greta asked, her small hand encircling Wolf's with all the affection she had for him. "I know he doesn't want him to hear about him. But I'm sure Yuuri would never want to see Wolfram so sick!"
"We will send him a message," Gwendal announced. He looked as though he had other things in mind, eyebrows jointed together in a deep frown, but his lips remained shut. He gave a last glance at his brother before turning away and leaving without a sound.
XXX
TBC.