Author's Note: This was supposed to be a little drabble for a friend who's been feeling down. Of course, I don't write drabbles. So it exploded into a few thousand words instead. I don't think anyone minds. Does this little one-shot exist within the larger continuum of my general KKM fic? I'm not telling. So there.

"Your Majesty? Your Majesty?"

Gwendal blinked, closed his eyes tightly, tentatively opened them, and promptly pulled a pillow over his head. Gunter was in a panic about something. That was Gunter's voice, in its shrieky, high-pitched incarnation. The one that sounded like a cat in heat even to the ears of love. And it was the Maoh's fault. Well, of course it was. He lay still, oddly aware of the motion of his eyelashes against the pillowcase as he tried to blink himself awake. He should deal with this crisis. Not that it was his duty as a lord, the maoh's aid, or even a future brother-in-law, but for Gunter alone, he'd roll out of bed and cope with this newest mess. Even if it was three in the morning and bitter cold.

He was just pulling the pillow off his face when the door to his room was thrown open. Gwendal barely suppressed an indignant squawk. He did insist on his own space, and the fact that his bedroom was full of awkwardly proportioned knitted toys and small cats (well, just two of the latter, but two kittens could look like a lot more when startled in the middle of the night) just reinforced that fact. And what was almost worse, he wasn't accustomed to being seen in his pajamas. They were fairly nice, dark green silk with bronze trim around the cuffs and collar, but the principle remained. He was very good at dressing in under a minute, trained to respond to Anissina's random attacks from an early age. It was just… disconcerting.

"Gwendal, His Majesty and Wolfram have disappeared."

Of course. "Gunter, I'm sure they've just run off to look at the unicorns on the eastern shores or something like…" He couldn't help his uncertainty. On the one hand, it was terribly undignified and unlike him to be seen with his hair down and tossed every which way, his pajamas open halfway to the waist… Why, if he'd been able to blush, he would have.

Gunter cut quite a figure in his long stocking cap and kitty slippers (knitted, of course, by Gwendal himself, though given as an anonymous gift), lavender robe untied over a white nightshirt. Gwendal almost forgot his own confusion at the sight. He would have given anything to pull that adorable figure to bed and kiss him until he calmed down.

Instead, he stood, still aware of how awkward he looked despite the austere impression he gave next to the befuddled, distressed Gunter. "But we'll investigate." He pulled a robe off a hook and stepped into his slippers.

"Thank you, Gwendal. It's just… I had a terrible dream, and they disappeared between now and dinner…"

"We'll just go and check their bedroom." Gwendal took the lead, Gunter twisting the dangling end of his nightcap in his hands and muttering dire predictions of doom. The halls were empty and quite silent. Gunter losing his mind was the sort of sound one could learn to sleep though, like rats in the walls or Josak singing in the bath. The maids wouldn't be up for a few hours. Gwendal enjoyed the relative peace, and even if Gunter was fretting about that dratted, irresponsible boy, at least he was here.

Yuuri's bedroom was, as reported, quite empty of monarchs, little brothers, and even adorable ten-year-old ingénues. The covers had been thrown off the bed and onto the floor, clearly by Gunter. Gwendal had to wonder what he'd have done if he had found Yuuri and Wolfram underneath, a thought that almost made him smile.

He looked around the room quickly, determining quickly that Gunter had been through the wardrobe as well. Gwendal turned to the vanity, where two notes waited, one in Yuuri's untidy scrawl, one in Wolfram's spidery calligraphy. Both were to the same effect.

Dear everyone, Wolfram is taking me to see the Rochefort Waterfalls where girls have disappeared. We'll be back when it's fixed. From there, Gwendal recognized the incomprehensible sequence of foreign symbols that made up the Maoh's signature.

To my eldest brother,

Yuuri has insisted on examining the age-old, foolish rumor of the haunted falls in the east. I was unable to dissuade him from this quest and thought it most prudent to accompany him.

Lord Wolfram Hildebrand Von Bielefeld

Gwendal found it rather touching that Wolfram worked so hard to emulate his own style of writing. Oh course, Gwendal also talked that way, so it didn't seem so ridiculous, but he was always more charmed than he let on by his baby brother's hero worship. He turned with a slight concession toward a softened expression and handed both to Gunter. "As I expected, they've run off an some ill-advised crusade."

"Oh, this is awful! The Rochefort backcountry has had repeated reports of banditry and wild beasts within the last twenty years, and I've always suspected the truth of the rumors behind the falls, and furthermore—"

Gunter wouldn't stop. Gwendal had heard him do this before, carrying himself to new heights of hysteria with neverending sentences declaiming doom. He'd let it happen many times, but alone in the silent castle, he dared to clasp both Gunter's shoulders, facing him head on and speaking slowly.

"The Rochefort Falls are the area's jumping off point for elopements for the locals, as you know full well. My younger brother is no doubt responsible for feeding His Majesty's interest in the subject and is looking for a chance to steal some time alone with his fiancé. And if you're truly concerned for their safety, I will write to Lady Rochefort in the morning to send them an escort."

"But—"

Gwendal shocked himself by tipping Gunter's chin up, locking blue eyes with lilac, and hissing a "Shh!" He spun and, on a sudden impulse, leaned out the window. "Gurierre Josak!"

"Yes, Lord Voltaire?" Gwendal wasn't sure why he'd assumed the man would be around, but logic took strange leaps and bounds when it came to Conrart's right hand man, and he was willing to just ride the wave. When Josak emerged from within Lady Celi's rose gardens, Gwendal didn't bat an eyelash.

"Since you're up, would you mind chasing down His Majesty and Lord Bielefeld? They should be on the southeast road."

"No problem. Should I bring them back if I have to do it in chains, or just keep an eye on them if they won't come?"

"Use your discretion." Gwendal pulled the curtains closed and turned back to Gunter. "That's settled."

"I… Oh." Gunter nodded. "I suppose I could have done that, but I wind up in such a dither when his Majesty gets away from me…"

"Yes." Gwendal closed his eyes for just a moment. Despite his shouting out the window and Gunter hurrying up and down the halls calling for Yuuri, the palace was still quiet. Dwellers in Covenant Castle had to be rather impervious to disturbance. "It's hardly surprising. Your devotion to your ruler is most admirable." Sure, it inspired insane jealousy in Gwendal's heart, but he could still see its merits.

"Thank you, Gwendal." Gunter smiled, looking quite sheepish. He was still a little pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. He'd probably not slept yet. Giesela would scold him if this were pointed out to her, but she was currently on a tour of the hospitals in the northeast. It would have to be Gwendal.

He was, of course, very upset about this.

"Why don't we get you some tea and then you can get some much needed sleep?" His voice was uncharacteristically soft. It helped that he was tired and the dreamlike, misty state of the castle made the whole thing seem unreal.

"Oh… Well, thank you, Gwendal." Gunter breathed in deeply, left off worrying his cap, and followed Gwendal to the silent kitchen. "I oughtn't panic so. The Maoh has undoubtedly proved himself quite capable, and with the express blessing of Shinou himself… Why…"

Gwendal nodded, not paying any particular mind. This sort of talk tended to annoy him. He'd learned to be fond of Yuuri in his distant way, but he didn't quite accept the boy with as open a heart as the others. Though Gwendal treated the world with perfect, implacable resentment in general, it was largely an impersonal dislike. There were only three ways to really earn his ire; engaging Gunter's affections, upsetting either of his little brothers, and being a true double-black. (It was hard to go through life with every new acquaintance noting his hair, watching their eyes flicker downward, and noting the disappointment upon noting his were just plain blue.) Yuuri was almost invariably busy perpetrating all three crimes.

So he just let it wash over him, enjoying Gunter's voice and letting the words go by. He started a fire in the smallest stove after some difficulty finding matches. All the maids were allied with fire and had little need for such conveniences. Noticing Gunter was half asleep and just speaking automatically, Gwendal decided to mix a quick batch of drop biscuits as long as he had the stove lit.

While the impromptu snack baked and the water heated, he sat across from Gunter at the little maids' table. "What have you been doing all night?"

It took Gunter a moment to realize he'd been addressed. "Oh, is it so obvious I haven't been to bed? I couldn't sleep, so I've been pursuing a question of divination theory in the library." He yawned halfway through and Gwendal had to listen carefully to make out what he was saying.

"Thus your prompt to look in on His Majesty?"

"Oh, no, I was only doing some reading. I simply was wondering how he might be doing…"

"At three in the morning?"

"Well, you see…"

Gwendal raised an eyebrow. "You were sleepwalking, weren't you?"

"Oh, who told you about that?" Gunter's cheeks went slightly pink, which was very, very becoming, and he went so far as to halfway rise to his feet and slam his fists onto the table, looking terribly embarrassed, before he sank back and tried to hide behind his hands.

Gwendal supposed it was a bit telling where Gunter's feet would carry him in a fitful sleep, but he repressed the wistful sigh it drew from him. "Mother. And Giesela."

"Damn that girl!"

"She was my field surgeon during the war, remember. I believe she wanted me to know in case stress brought out a latent inherited tendency." By blood, of course, Giesela was only Gunter's second cousin, and once removed at that. Gwendal was quite aware she'd only told him because it amused her. He found the image so cute he'd refrained from calling her on it.

"Oh." Gunter was still blushing a little. "I'd prefer if you didn't mention it to his majesty…"

"It would be less likely to occur, I'm sure, if you'd go to bed properly instead of falling asleep over a desk in the depths of the library." Gwendal leaned his chin on his hand, smiling openly. "But you may be assured of my secrecy." He'd be as embarrassed by this as Gunter in the morning, but now he was three quarters dreaming and the kitchen smelled like heaven, and Gunter was seated across from him.

When he got up to pull out the biscuits, his toe accidentally brushed Gunter's ankle, and he was very glad for the excuse to turn quickly and hide his own livid blush. He prepared a few for Gunter while the tea steeped and set the plate and mug before him. "Here. With luck this will send you off to a more peaceful sleep."

"What…?"

"Drop biscuits filled in with blueberry and rhubarb comfit and lightly sweetened chamomile and mint tea." Gunter had rather particular tastes, and Gwendal had learned them all.

"Oh." He blinked twice and stood, headed for the counter. Gwendal was afraid he'd forgotten something until a plate was set in front of him.

"Same, with clotted cream and apple blossom honey, tea unsweetened." Gunter resumed his seat across from Gwendal, smiling rather bashfully. Gwendal matched the look. He supposed that, for all his distance, Gunter kept an eye on him, too.

"Thank you." What else could he say? They both ate in silence. Gwendal had the oddest impression that Gunter was stealing glances at him as well as vice-versa, but that was surely a delusion brought on by exhaustion. Certainly Gunter's eyes were always cast down when Gwendal looked up.

There were still a few crumbs on his plate when Gunter lost the war with wakefulness. There was a small thud as his head hit the table. Gwendal smiled broadly, now that he couldn't be seen at it. Very few had ever seen him really grin, with love in his eyes. People sometimes could draw a parallel, at least, between Gwendal and Conrart, but with this rarest of looks, he really did resemble his youngest brother.

Gwendal lifted Gunter off the bench without effort. What mass Lord Von Christ did have was all muscle, of course, but he was still a lithe little leaf in the breeze as far as Gwendal was concerned. He tenderly carried his beloved from the kitchen and upstairs to his bedroom, stretched him out, and gently draped a blanket over him.

"Sleep well, Gunter." Gwendal softly pressed his lips to the older man's forehead, the touch as light as a butterfly's wing, and slipped off to his own room, covering his mouth to hide a grin that wouldn't go away.