Kyou Kara Maou – Shining Moments
Summary: One-shot series. First up, the notorious marriage ball that betrothed Gwendal's, Adelbert's, and Manfred's parents, thus including Wolfram's mother and grandfather.
Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou of course.
Note: This series is part of my Bedding of Wolfram / Epilogue universe. The series works a whole lot better if you read the stories in order. Though this chapter is set way in the past, it's best read after Trolls. Though maybe the summary would be enough.
Supporting materials on the "homepage" link on my author profile include story summaries, illustrations, portraits, and character bios. The character bios are almost done, and I've added new illustrations since Ghosts.
Chapter 1 – The Courtship of Gwendal's Father
Setting: 175 years before Yuuri arrived in Shin Makoku, at the von Bielenfeld royal pier.
Sixty years before, the Great War with Trondheim devastated Shin Makoku. Friedrich Lord Bielenfeld is the ranking surviving relative of the marriageable young Aristocrats of several domains, including his own. Rather preferring dentist visits to matchmaking, Friedrich stalled, to no avail – no one else held a marriage ball. So, eager to marry off his young half-sisters Phoebe and Sophie, he finally threw a ball himself…
-oOo-
Hugh Lord Walde, the celebrated General of all Shin Makoku, victor of the Great War, arrived at Bielenfeld late on a splendid spring morning. The broad Donza River, superhighway of the kingdom, sparkled under a pure azure sky. The fresh breeze flapped pennants and sang in the rigging of his fast cutter, as the crew secured the boat to the royal pier, gaily bedecked with flowers and streamers, to welcome guests to the Aristocrat marriage ball extravaganza. Hugh himself, tall dark and handsome, ruler of wealthy Walde, hero to the nation, a widower in his prime, was the grand prize aspiration for many a young hopeful to the ball. Romance was in the air.
"Hugh looks terrified," observed the host, Friedrich Lord Bielenfeld, with an evil green-eyed demon smile. "You boys be nice…"
"We're always nice," chorused Friedrich's son Aldrich and his sidekick Franklin, standing beside him. They were in no danger of betrothal themselves. At 60, they were physically and emotionally much like human 15-year-olds, though with far broader experience and education – and both were far from human. The boys were the organizers of tonight's ball, eager to 'get rid of Phoebe and Sophie', Bielenfeld's lady entrants to tonight's meat market. They broke into their theme song for the event, "Ding-dong, the witch is gone, the wicked witch, the witch is gone –"
Franklin coughed to cover a laugh. "Remember, you're trying to market Phoebe and Sophie." He strode forward beaming. "Hugh! Good to see you! No, no escaping back downriver – you're pushing 250, and no heir yet for Walde! Tonight's the night. You remember my wife's nephew Franklin von Trondheim, and my son Aldrich?"
Tall, dark, and sad sack, Hugh's face fell even further, and he gulped. "Yes, of course. Lord Franklin, I admired your grandfather the Warlord deeply."
And showed your admiration by executing him, you son of a – !
Before Franklin could reply to this… unfortunate choice of conversation opener, Aldrich intercepted the General's gaffe with a bow and a smile. "We're told our grandfather von Trondheim thought highly of you as well, General. Is that your social resumé?" The genial young blond plucked the document from Hugh's shaky grasp, and handed it off to Franklin, to go add to the resumé binder and cool his head. "And who will be acting as your marriage broker, Sir?"
"My – oh," said Hugh, at a loss. He'd forgotten these negotiations went through an intermediary. He hadn't planned to come to the marriage ball. The Maou had sent him, saying it was Shinou's will that he seek a bride here. Which he found far from reassuring.
"Excuse me, Hugh," said Friedrich, "I see my great-niece and -nephew von Spitzweg are arriving. Aldrich will take good care of you."
Which left Hugh alone with a smiling Aldrich von Bielenfeld. Whose grandfather he'd executed during the Great War. Maybe I shouldn't have brought that up…
"Don't worry, General, we'll act as your brokers," Aldrich assured him. "May I renew your acquaintance with my maiden aunts?"
Aldrich drew Hugh toward a group of women by the arriving ferry. There were indeed several modest and comely matrons, of the seemingly endless demon middle-age. No doubt old Friedrich's half-sisters were among them. He hazarded a smile at several well-padded and comfortable looking ladies. But Aldrich continued past them, to two willowy young blondes, just half Hugh's age.
The girls' eyes were glued to the top of the gangway, where their slightly older great-niece Cecilie von Spitzweg made a grand entrance, waving and blowing kisses, showing off her dress and jewelry, cleavage and legs.
"Sofeeble –" Aldrich said, to catch their attention.
"Aldrich, you screw-up," Phoebe returned his greeting, without a glance backward, "why'd you invite the cow?"
"With boobs that big, I wonder how big the nipples are?" mused Sophie.
"- General Hugh Lord Walde," Aldrich continued, "please allow me to present my father's half-sisters, Sophie and Phoebe von Bielenfeld."
The chagrined Phoebe and Sophie slowly turned. Phoebe, crimson, glared at Aldrich. Sophie, only slightly pink, curtseyed graciously, then rose straight and tall, with a smile. "So good to see you again, General. Welcome to our home."
Thus cued, Phoebe gave an awkward curtsey as well,. "Yes, welcome," she muttered.
And she couldn't think of anything else to say. She swallowed and shot an anxious glance at the gangway, where that idiot Stoeffel, looking like a frilled yellow canary in his von Spitzweg finery, was mimicking his sister's entrance. The old General and Stoeffel were my top ranking two hopes! Damn, damn, damn!
"Your aunts," Hugh echoed. He attempted another social gambit. "Ladies, I took you for young Aldrich's sisters." He smiled. And waited, the smile getting a bit strained.
Aldrich and Sophie waited, to give Phoebe as long as possible to regain her voice and take her shot at marrying the head of a domain.
Sophie gave up on Phoebe's wits first. "Oh, don't worry about that, General. It's because our brother Friedrich is so old – our family confuses everybody. And it's true, we were all raised as brothers and sisters – myself, then my sister Phoebe, then Friedrich's grandson Wolfred the heir, who serves you in the army, then our nephew Aldrich, the baby of the family." She smiled fondly at Aldrich, who smiled back with equal insincerity.
"Did Wolfred come with you?" Phoebe piped up at last. "Lord Hugh?"
"No," replied Hugh. "He left HQ a week ago. Is he missing?"
"He said he had an errand to run on the way home," said Aldrich. "No doubt he'll show up at the last minute and make a grand entrance."
Hugh smiled and nodded. "Hopefully not in a ball gown, ha ha."
The girls stared at him. Wolfred wouldn't dare – ! But unfortunately, that was just the sort of thing Wolfred would do…
As Hugh's face fell to new lows, Friedrich rejoined them, with Stoeffel von Spitzweg and his friend Raven.
"Aldrich, our social resumés," said Stoeffel, airily slapping them at Aldrich as though to a servant. "I prefer blondes. I'd thought Kattrin Abercrombie, but she's too fat."
Aldrich retorted, "Yes, I'll be sure to tell the kitchens you prefer lean, m'lord."
"First warning, Aldrich," murmured Friedrich.
"Oh, hello, hello!" boomed Cecilie, coming up with the voluptuous Kattrin. Having already kissed Friedrich, she fell bosom to bosom first on the very alarmed Hugh von Walde, then gathered Aldrich to her breast for a smooch. "Oh, cousin Aldrich! You've grown into quite the little hunk, haven't you? That dimple and those pretty-pretty elfin eyes – I bet you have all the boys chasing you!"
"Girls," growled Phoebe. She was determined not to let Wolfred rub off on Aldrich, no matter how cute he was.
"Hi, Phoebe!" returned Kattrin, mistaking this for a greeting. "Let's go in and join the ladies' party, shall we? We look forward to seeing you men again later at the ball, in your dashing finery!" And their smiling elder cousin from Wincott herded the ladies toward the castle. Sophie glanced back imploringly at Aldrich. He rolled his eyes and nodded. If I see Adeldan von Gratz, I'll put in a good word for you…
"Lovely," said Hugh, staring after the girls, starstruck.
"My sister?" asked the elderly Friedrich and young Stoeffel.
Hugh cleared his throat and nodded. "Yes, your sisters are lovely."
Seeing a lull in arrivals – and thus a chance to escape to the older men – Friedrich led his guests toward the gentlemen's reception in the garden, leaving the pier to Aldrich and Franklin.
Hugh Lord Walde followed, head in the clouds. Her long blonde waves of hair, captivating wide green eyes, ample bosom, kindly smile… He hadn't wanted to come. He though it shameful for an old childless widower like himself to seek a bride at a marriage ball, like a young buck on the prowl. But Maou and Shinou had insisted. And now, Hugh was glad they had! For even this brief meeting had quickened his step, lifted his heart. Such grace and poise. It was love at first sight! If only the young beauty would take him, and be his bride – to become the Lady Kattrin von Walde!
-oOo-
Aldrich tossed the Spitzweg resumés to Franklin. "Two more for the crap list."
"It's getting crowded. I already added Grandfather's executioner," replied Franklin. "Hope you don't mind."
"Ab-so-lu-te-lay," breathed Aldrich, with a charming crooked green smile. "Hey, what's that barge doing, tying up to the royal pier? Hey, you! You can't park there!"
"But I can, beautiful!" Wolfred called back from the barge, blowing him a kiss. "Because I'm the heir. And you're the spare!" Wolfred leapt off the boat and helped down a woman and baby. He sent these ahead to the castle, while he swooped on Aldrich for a hug and kiss on the mouth.
The gorgeous young man was a few inches taller, but the spitting image of his grandfather Friedrich, in turn twin to the most celebrated beauty of the millenium, Emeraude von Bielenfeld, from whom the many gorgeous Wincott and Spitzweg green-eyed blonds were descended, and thus landed on poor Friedrich's marry-off to-do list. But the resemblance ended at looks – the sardonic and powerful healer Lord Friedrich, and the glitteringly dangerous killer Wolfred, were opposites in personality. At the moment, Wolfred's foppishly beruffled Bielenfeld dress uniform was badly travel-stained.
Wolfred held Aldrich's face in his hands, and rubbed noses. "Oh, sweetie, did you miss me?"
"You're late. For your own marriage ball," replied Aldrich sourly.
"Not to worry, pretty pet! I'm here, aren't I?"
"What's with the woman and the baby?"
"Shh…" Wolfred put a hushing finger between his lips and Aldrich's, then kissed it playfully. "All will be revealed, in due time. But! First, I need a bath if I'm going to outshine the rest of the girls tonight!" He let go of Aldrich and flipped Franklin's hair onto his forehead. A militant line of cowlicks flopped it right back where it belonged. "Hi, Franklin. That outfit's such a butch look on you, and your shoulders… GRRRowl!" He winked at Franklin's customary grimace. "See you two in a twinkle, when I'm pretty!" Wolfred pranced on up to the castle, Aldrich staring after him, lips pursed.
"Rick, you're acting like a jilted lover," commented Franklin. "It's really disturbing."
Aldrich blew him a kiss. "Jealous, Lin? Oh, honey, I didn't know you cared!"
Franklin just shook his head in disgust.
-oOo-
"Wolfred, so glad you could make it," said Friedrich sarcastically, entering his grandson's room. Friedrich had raised him from infancy, so the relationship was nearer father and son. "Now get your butt down to the gentlemen's reception. What did you drag me up here for?"
"I have someone for you to meet, Grandfather," said Wolfred, oddly subdued. Friedrich's eyes widened as Wolfred walked over to a – baby basket?!? – in the corner. "My son," Wolfred said simply, staring down at the newborn. "I call him Wolfren."
Friedrich walked over slowly and touched the child. Sure enough, he bore the fire healer maryoku, unique to the few direct male-to-male descendants of their line. He looked like Friedrich's lost son Wolfgang as a baby, Wolfred's father, right down to the… soul. Wolfgang's reincarnation. Of course he didn't speak this aloud. That was for the child to find out for himself, someday. Friedrich swallowed. "How."
"We needn't go into that," said Wolfred. "Just, please, Grandfather – does he have a Bielenfeld soul? Can my son can be my heir?"
"We do need to 'go into that', if you want to legitimate this child as an heir to Bielenfeld. You forget yourself, Lord Wolfred. Explain."
"We have to keep it secret," pleaded Wolfred, not meeting Friedrich's eye. "For Aldrich's sake, as well as my son's. Promise me, Grandfather. I'll tell them myself when they make their centuries. But no one can tell them before then. Wolfren… is a nymph descendant, from Garena." A son is a descendant…
"You hardly need to keep nymph descent secret from me," countered Friedrich. Like his secret brother Garena, he was half-nymph "So who's the mother?"
"She doesn't want to –"
"You're pissing me off, Wolfred."
"I… I am, I'm the mother. You see… why we can't tell anyone?"
"Oy!" agreed Friedrich.
The two men stared down at the perfect sleeping baby for a few moments in silence. Wolfred suggested softly, "Phoebe's been away for the past half year…"
"Are you quite insane?"
-oOo-
Young Aldrich learned a great deal about throwing a ball that day. For instance, ladies don't need to compare notes before the dance.
"So many ruling Lords and heirs up for grabs tonight!" a noblewoman from Shin Makoku proper observed. "Adeldan von Gratz, Julius von Wincott, Hugh von Walde, Stoeffel von Spitzweg…"
"And Wolfred von Bielenfeld," inserted Phoebe.
"Well, yes…" The lady from Khrennikov looked disparagingly at Phoebe's pants, then turned back to her friend. "And Lord Krist is here, too! Did you hear? He divorced his first wife because she was frigid!"
"Well, he would say that. But Felicia says Anna says he was a complete pervert!"
"Really, what kind of pervert?" inquired Cecilie, interested.
"I'm not sure we should speak like this about –" attempted Kattrin.
"Whyever not? If one of us is going to marry him, we have a right to know!" insisted a noblewoman from Spitzweg.
"Quite the icebreaker, isn't it?" said Cecilie. "I think I shall ask him when we dance tonight."
Amidst the tittering, several women shot her calculating glances, unsure whether this was a trap or a good suggestion. Several others looked disheartened at her confidence of a dance with Lord Krist. They might get a dance with one or two of the high Lords. No doubt Cecilie would dance with each of them. It was so unfair.
Phoebe – actually quite a talented industrialist – asked, "Is this something we can just ask men while we're dancing? Their sexual preferences?"
"Ah –" an involuntary noise of dismay escaped kind Kattrin, who had no idea how to save Phoebe from what she'd just said. Most of the room turned to stare at the hapless young lady, and started to laugh cruelly.
Cecilie put her arm around Phoebe and laughed with her, instead of at her. "Well, it's a tricky bit of flirting, Phoebe. You might do better just being your own candid self."
This was actually quite a good save, which Phoebe was too ingenuous to appreciate. She thought Cecilie was making fun of her worst of all. Her face started to flush.
"Well, at least we don't need to ask about Wolfred's desires," said one of the more vicious ones, eyeing Phoebe. "Lord Krist's frigid lady should marry him!"
"So Cecilie, what's your gown like for tonight?" hazarded Sophie loudly.
"Wolfred is heir to the greatest domain of Shin Makoku!" defended Phoebe.
"Yes, Cecilie, you always have the loveliest gowns," buttressed Kattrin.
"A marriage with Wolfred would be a complete sham," said the woman from Khrennikov. "Finding his catamites in the bedroom closet!"
"Oh, I'm sure both of your dresses will be just as lovely," said Cecilie, though the three could hardly have more different tastes – Kattrin favored angelic tiers of lace, Sophie a long line of elegance, and Cecilie a racy ravish-me-now challenge.
"How dare you!" yelled Phoebe.
"Speaking of which, we'll need to dress soon, and it's such a lovely day outside," said Cecilie. "Let's go for a walk. Anyone care to join me?"
"But she – !"
"Walk away, Phoebe," whispered Sophie in her ear.
"What a wonderful idea!" cried Kattrin, gratefully. And she and Cecilie and Sophie herded all the ladies out for a walk, while Phoebe stomped off alone upstairs to the family's private apartments. She might have had a good cry, except that she heard a baby crying first, and went to investigate.
"And who do you favor, Kattrin? Sophie? Cecilie?" asked a noblewoman from Walde, as the gaggle headed outside. The lesser nobility were keenly interested, confident these top-ranked blondes would get their picks, and the rest would compete for leftover perverts like Lord Wolfred and Lord Krist, and the second tier nobles.
"Well…" demurred Kattrin. Julius von Wincott, she didn't admit.
"Hmm…" said Sophie. Adeldan von Gratz or death.
Cecilie smiled coyly. "My mind is wide open. Though I must say, Castle Bielenfeld is lovely!"
The gaggle of noblewomen wandered back to the pier. Aldrich didn't catch why half of them fell into the river, nor why Sophie, Kattrin, and Cecilie – perfectly dry, and seeming to enjoy a pleasant conversation - ignored the floundering women.
-oOo-
Friedrich tried to enjoy some time hiding in the box-hedge maze with his older cronies, but he was preoccupied by Wolfred's proposal. And his pile of 'little notes' regarding his marriage brokerees was getting rather tall. He sighed and pulled a chair aside, to triage the notes and start deciding priority dance assignments. Death threats from sister Sophie, petulant specifications from Stoeffel, Kattrin's sweet confidences, Cecilie's doubts about leaving her brother, inquiries from a number of men after the girls or Wolfred, bids for the fabulously wealthy Wolfred from every second-tier lady in attendance… And mistakenly fallen in among these, a letter from Ulrike, Shinou's high priestess. Friedrich opened it in alarm.
…Shinou's will… the next Maou shall be the lady Hugh Lord Walde marries…
"What the - ?" Friedrich exclaimed, attracting raised eyebrows among his sedate friends. "Ah, the crazy whims of youth, ha-ha," he excused his outburst. "Hugh, may I speak with you in private?"
He led Hugh into the castle, to give himself a moment to consider. Why in Shinou's name would Ulrike tell him that, instead of Hugh? "So, Hugh, have you set your heart on anyone in particular?"
"Well," said Hugh bashfully, "your sister Sophie seems highly intelligent, and Cecilie's spirited, but," he gulped, "Kattrin Abercrombie… Would she, do you think, might Kattrin…?"
"I see…" said Friedrich. "Anyone else? No. Let me ask you, Hugh – have you ever considered who might be named the next Maou? No. Well, thank you for your candor, and I'll be sure to get you a dance with young Kattrin. Actually, all three of them? If that's alright?"
"Oh, thank you! Thank you, Friedrich!" said Hugh, innocently sure that his friend Friedrich would have told him, had Kattrin's affections been claimed elsewhere.
And Friedrich retired to his office to work on matchmaking, no longer in bemusement, but deathly earnest. Without a trace of sentimentality, it was Friedrich's sincere opinion that of those three women, the only one even remotely fit to be Maou, was his strong-willed and elegant half-sister Sophie. Unfortunately, he was equally sure that a marriage between Sophie and the fumble-tongued Hugh would be a cold and lonely one.
-oOo-
The family apartments in Castle Bielenfeld felt like a morgue when Aldrich and Franklin came to dress for the ball. They peeked in on Sophie and Phoebe, wondering where the usual juggernaut of chatter had gone, and saw each alone in her room, dressing herself to the nines, grim as death. Wolfred's door was closed, on a low-voiced somber conversation with Friedrich. The valet, also somber, caught the boys and brushed and polished them within an inch of their lives.
"I've been to cheerier funerals," complained Aldrich. "This is supposed to be a party!" Franklin agreed – but then, Tronds celebrated deaths.
"Are you ready to take me down, Aldrich?" Phoebe asked quietly from the door. "You're to present me tonight."
The man who escorted a lady into the ball, announced himself as the broker, should a suitor wish a dance, or to discuss marriage terms. "Me? Wolfred was supposed to present you!"
"Wolfred won't be presenting anyone," said Friedrich, joining them, Sophie in tow. "Come along, son. Franklin, you can go to the ballroom with Wolfred now, please."
Both girls looked more beautiful than Aldrich would have thought possible. Well, it was rare to see Phoebe in a dress, let alone jeweled and coiffed. But Sophie was no stranger to elegance, accustomed to acting as hostess at Castle Bielenfeld for her brother, and even Sophie outshone herself. Flaxen hair was piled high to accentuate willowy figures and elegant necklines, diamonds and sapphires set off creamy complexions and small piercing blue-green eyes. The girls had no nymph ancestry, instead favoring their father Theophilus Lord Bielenfeld's angular face. Both stood half a foot taller than their tiny elder brother. At the staging area, they separated, Sophie with Friedrich to the front of the line to open the ball, the younger sister Phoebe with Aldrich falling in behind Kattrin, on her uncle Elliot von Wincott's elbow. The mood in the room had been festive, until the von Bielenfelds joined the line and cast a pall.
"Oh, Phoebe," said Aldrich, "Soujourn says his uncle Franz the shipping magnate is coming. He's handsome, only 150, and really rich. He'd be good, wouldn't he?"
"A squire's industrialist relative," said Phoebe wistfully. "I'm sure we'd enjoy talking together."
"Well, yeah, isn't that the point?" said Aldrich.
Kattrin turned and patted Aldrich's arm. "But your aunt is of the highest Aristocracy, Aldrich. You look lovely, Phoebe!"
"Thank you, Kattrin. You as well," said Phoebe with a sad smile.
A noblewoman a few places back quipped in a loud stage whisper, "As though any Aristocrat would marry a factory girl." Several of her cronies tittered.
Phoebe colored, hands tightening into fists. But Aldrich squeezed her arm with a grin and walked back to the commentator. He bowed with a flourish. "Excuse me, I don't believe we've met. I'm your host at this ball – Aldrich von Trondheim von Bielenfeld, Lord Bielenfeld's sole surviving son. Tonight I'm brokering the hands of Lady Phoebe and Lord Wolfred of this house, as well as Julius Lord Wincott and Hugh Lord Walde. And your name, madam?"
"Felicia McDonald," the woman managed to murmur. "Pleased…"
Aldrich grinned most aggressively. "Felicia McDonald. I shall to be sure to remember that! Do enjoy the ball, Felicia McDonald."
As he rejoined Phoebe, there was considerably more tittering, all at Felicia's expense. Phoebe bit her lip smiling, and squeezed his hand. "You know, Aldrich, for a nephew, you're not half bad."
Aldrich shot her a crooked green-eyed demon smile. "Cheer up, Feeble. It's just a dance. What's the worst that could happen?" He didn't understand why this made her face start falling again.
After their presentations, each lady collected her dance card, several of them to great mystification. Phoebe's first two dances after Aldrich – an expression of highest regard – were Wolfred and Hugh Lord Walde. Cecilie led off with Adeldan Lord Gratz, followed by Wolfred. Kattrin had Julius Lord Wincott, followed by Stoeffel Lord Spitzweg. She was booked solid through the second set, with Hugh somewhere around eighth. And Sophie – who'd had her heart set on Adeldan as long as Aldrich could remember – danced first with Hugh, then Julius Lord Wincott. Adeldan wasn't even on her list.
-oOo-
"My brother has told us much about your trials during the Great War, General," said Sophie, in Hugh's arms for the first dance. "That must have been very difficult for you, being locked up in a tower, to protect you from Trond influence." She tried her best to sound sympathetic. In truth, she couldn't imagine giving her consent to be locked up in a tower – wimp.
"Yes, it was. And attacking my own goblin people… Of course I understood the necessity, of having a war leader who understood the enemy, but…"
"They were the enemy, after all," asserted Sophie, frowning at the self-indulgently depressive direction Hugh was taking.
"Ah, yes…" said Hugh uncomfortably. "You seem very knowledgeable, Lady Sophie?"
"My brother believes in educating women equally to men, Lord General, each to the limits of their ability. Is that not the custom in Walde?"
"Um, no," Hugh admitted, fearing that was the wrong answer. Fortunately the dance was over. He bowed and thanked Sophie profusely, eager to run away, at least until he realized that his next dance was with Phoebe.
"I believe my sister Sophie will make a very great Lady," said Phoebe, in his arms, "don't you, Lord General?"
"Ah, she's –" intimidating as hell, "a woman to be reckoned with."
Phoebe nodded emphatically. "Yes, exactly. Sophie is a leader among women."
Hugh smiled wanly. In a wife, it might be nice to have someone to hug me and make me feel better… "And you, Lady Phoebe? Are you a leader among women?"
"I'm a daughter of the ancient royal family of Bielenfeld, Lord Hugh. A true Aristocrat lives to serve, as her domain requires."
After the strangely sad Phoebe, Hugh's next three dances were with the most shallow, callow women Friedrich could find. One admitted that she was only 80, but she understood old men like Hugh often needed young virgins to stoke waning desire. The eighth dance, he reminded himself firmly. Then I dance with lovely Kattrin! In the meantime, he endured.
-oOo-
Cecilie was surprised to dance first with the tall blond Adeldan Lord Gratz. She felt tiny enveloped in his massive arms while they danced, unable to see past the vastness of his chest. They spoke lightly, and pleasantly, and assured each other they were very attractive indeed, but neither felt any particular spark. The rugged individualist ranchland of Gratz was so very not Cecilie's thing – she'd be bored to tears in Gratzberg.
Her next dance was with the glitteringly beautiful Wolfred von Bielenfeld, the wealthiest heir in all Shin Makoku – and gay as the day was long, by most reports.
"So, cousin," said Wolfred, expertly leading her into a risqué dip, "shall we be coy, or cut straight to the chase?"
Cecilie giggled. "Perhaps a little of both? Where's the fun of the game if we're too businesslike about it?"
"Oh, agreed!" said Wolfred, drawing her to him to whisper, his breath tickling into her ear. "I hear perhaps you like my modest home and trinkets. But I'm wondering – would you be lonely in a little bed here, while I'm off playing soldier with the boys, or –" he twirled her forcefully, and gathered her back in his arms to tickle her other ear. "Or are you independent enough to take good care of amusing yourself, hm?"
"Well, I could amuse myself," allowed Cecilie grinning. She purred into his ear more quietly, "But we could make some stunningly beautiful green-eyed blond babies. If you're not always off playing soldier with the boys?"
Wolfred swirled her emphatically as the dance ended, and twirled her back into a clutch. "I think we do understand each other, then. Dear cousin. Let's think on it."
And he passed her off to the spacey academic Julius Lord Wincott. She sighed. It was a bit like she'd embarked on a wild adventure, only to suddenly be sidelined with a cup of warm milk. Julius was such a sweet man. She chose a goal of having him notice that she was flirting with him by the end of the dance.
He never did.
-oOo-
Friedrich snatched a large goblet of wine from his son's hand. "I don't care for the way you're drinking. Punch only, Aldrich – that's an order!"
Aldrich bowed his head meekly. And then snuck into the ballroom kitchens to add a couple gallons of grain alcohol to the pitchers going out to refresh the punch bowl. Just as he finished, a hand clapped over his eyes.
"Naughty, naughty, uncle," said Wolfred. "Though I must admit, this party could use some livening up." And he produced a vial of powder from his jacket.
Aldrich's eyes widened. "Aphrodisiac? You wouldn't. Not even you, Wolfred!"
"Oh, is that a dare?" Wolfred dumped the whole vial into a pitcher. "So, help me carry, sweetie. Our guests are waiting."
"Maybe we could get together, later," attempted Aldrich. "See how good your powder is?"
Wolfred eyed him sideways, then looked away. "No. I'm about to become a married man." To Aldrich's mutinous green glare he added softly, "The very fact that you mind, says it's too serious. I'm sorry, pretty pet. From now on, you're my baby brother uncle, and that's all."
Aldrich pulled closer to whisper, so the servants couldn't overhear. "But what about the seeds? Have you been to talk to the nymphs yet?" After fooling around sexually, both of them had produced seeds out of their sinuses – definitely not covered by Friedrich's facts-of-life briefing. Wolfred promised to inquire with the nymph-kin, without telling Friedrich they'd been… messing around.
Wolfred shrugged. "Plant them. They grow trees. It's not because we're both nymph-kin, Aldrich. I've done it with normal demons."
"Why won't you look me in the eye?"
"I'll tell you when you've made your century." He put a finger to Aldrich's lips when the youth made to protest. "This isn't the time. C'mon, beautiful. Smile and help me secure the bride of my dreams! Oh, I'm all aquiver!"
"You're not really going to marry a woman, are you?"
"Yes, sweet prince, I really am. And so will you."
They poured the pitchers into the punch bowl right before the first set of dances ended. Aldrich downed his first goblet right then and there. Then he helped dole out goblets for all the thirsty dancers.
-oOo-
Friedrich – who on rare occasions allowed himself a half glass of sherry before bed – sat on the sidelines, staring most puzzled into his second goblet of fruit punch.
"Friedrish!" cried Hugh. He plopped down beside him, and took the old man by both shoulders. "Kattrin! Didja tell her? Didja ask her? Does she like me?"
"Huh?" said Friedrich, having trouble focusing."Ah, I think I'm…" He keeled over onto the seat next to him and proceeded to snore.
Franklin saw this. Knowing his best friend Aldrich all too well, he dipped up a cup of the punch and tasted it critically. He then hastily instructed the servants to add lots of ice and fruit juice, as quickly as possible. He also ordered pitchers of ice water set out by the hors'd'oevres, the only supper the guests had been provided. But by then most had guzzled a pint or more of the punch, all on empty stomachs.
-oOo-
Sophie couldn't stand it anymore. Watching other girls clamped to that… chest… in those… arms! It should be me drowning in Adeldan's embrace! Me! I don't care! If I have to be Maou and marry that dead fish General Lord Walde, so be it! But first, I want my Adeldan, dammit! I want to give myself – She marched over to the dance cards and signed up for the last dance of the set with him.
Kattrin danced helplessly with man after man. Was it her imagination, or did they press against her a little much? She'd be too embarrassed to glance down, but they seemed… overly excited. And the more she thought about it, the more flushed and uncomfortable she became. She tried to have a reasonable conversation with them, but her eye kept roving to darling Julius, her best friend, who seemed more alluring by the minute. And she wondered if he was… sticking into… the girls he danced to the way these men were… protruding… into her. She urgently ordered herself not to think that way, to keep a clear head. But then the man she was dancing with would… grind… into her again, and all she could think about, was how much she wished he were Julius.
Her eighth dance came and she was handed off to Hugh Lord Walde, and didn't even see him. He's free this dance! Julius is free! "Oh, excuse me! I have to –" and she ran away after Julius.
Cecilie, fingers to her lips, saw how distraught Hugh was. She gently stroked her next partner's face, and said, "You don't mind, do you? A mission of mercy." The young man – who hadn't a prayer with Lady Cecilie and knew it – bowed acquiescence.
And Cecilie took the unhappy Hugh's arm. "Perhaps you'll dance with me, General? I'm so sorry cousin Kattrin was distracted. She and Julius are childhood sweethearts."
"Oh," said Hugh, with a sob. "I – oh."
"There, there," said Cecilie, stroking his face. "Perhaps you'd prefer a nice cup of punch together, over a dance? You know, General Lord Walde, you are the most extraordinarily handsome man. Hm." She smiled, and took his hand in both of hers, behind her, so that his hand was perforce resting on the top of her ass, which grew in his consciousness to fill the world, in an enticing sort of way. Cecilie drew him this way to the punch bowl, then out onto the balcony, and then into the box-hedge maze.
They missed the rest of their assigned dances. But the musicians had been guzzling punch, too. Only half came back from their break after the second set, and the ball was so disorganized by that point, they gave it up as well. Sophie and Adeldan, Kattrin and Julius, Wolfred and Lord Krist, were among many having sex up in the nooks and crannies of the ballroom balcony.
-oOo-
A local true healer, summoned by Aldrich's best friend Franklin, managed to revive Friedrich, who opened bleary eyes to an orgy in his ballroom. This actually went rather well with the erotic dream he'd just had, so he blinked stupidly at the scene for a few moments. Slowly a full sense of wrongness dawned into consciousness.
He considered. His green eyes narrowed. He bellowed.
"SOFEEBLE WOLFRICH VON BIELENFELD! HERE! NOW!"
And he held his head wincing in pain at his own loud voice, as did several other of the middle-aged brokers who'd been passed out nearby. Elliot von Wincott rolled into a ball on the floor and went back to sleep. The healer moved on to revive others.
Friedrich spied Sophie and Adeldan, Phoebe and the industrialist Franz von Tarkenburg, Wolfred and Lord Krist, and Aldrich with one of the serving girls, all peering cautiously over various lengths of the ballroom balcony banister. He glared at each and tapped his foot. They pulled clothes back on quickly and filed downstairs.
With all four of his young wards finally arrayed before him in deshabille, Friedrich said, "May you all grow up to have children –"
"Just. Like. You," his half-sisters, grandson, and son chorused on cue. The endlessly creative quartet had more than a little practice with this curse over the years.
"I'm not even going to ask if this was your fault. We all know it was. Sophie! Where is Hugh Lord Walde?"
"I lost track," she admitted.
Adeldan came up and aggressively put his burly arms around her. "Lord Friedrich, I want to marry your sister! Please give us your blessing!"
"I'll think about it," said Friedrich sourly.
"And your great-niece Kattrin!" Julius Lord Wincott called from up in the gallery, clutching the rather disheveled Kattrin to his presently bare chest.
"I'll think about it," repeated Friedrich sourly.
"And I – Grandfather, please bless my marriage to your sister Phoebe!" cried Wolfred, clutching Phoebe to him. Phoebe slapped him, hard. He slapped her back, harder.
"Alright, that I'll allow," said Friedrich sourly.
"And I wish to marry your great-niece Cecilie von Spitzweg!" cried Hugh, coming in from the garden, grass-stains and damp spots all over his and Cecilie's awry clothing.
Friedrich stared at Hugh. He stared at Sophie. He stared at Kattrin. He sighed. "Aldrich? Anyone asking for your hand in marriage tonight?"
"No, Father."
"Fine! Permission granted all around. May you all grow to have children just like you!" The other delighted couples double-slapped to seal the deal, then stole off to more private places to seal the deal more thoroughly.
Friedrich considered formally closing the ball, but decided it was a pointless gesture. So he simply headed up to bed. His younger three trooped along behind him.
"You – and Phoebe - ?" stuttered Aldrich, staring aghast at Wolfred and his great-aunt, as they reached the family apartments, finally in private.
"To raise our child together," Wolfred replied, arm around Phoebe, and grinning a most evil green-eyed demon smile. "Aldrich, come meet our love-child."
"Love-child," Aldrich parroted blankly. Some might wonder at how well Wolfred and Phoebe had hidden their affair. He didn't. There had simply never been any such affair to hide.
Friedrich split off to his suite to pass out again. Aldrich followed the newly betrothed couple into Wolfred's bedroom, where Wolfred did indeed produce a beautiful sleeping baby and lay it in Aldrich's arms. "Your first great-nephew, Aldrich. His name is -"
"Manfred," inserted Phoebe. "To remind you to act like a man when you're around him, Wolfred." Wolfred glared at her, but she held her ground. "He's my son, too, darling. His name is Manfred. And he will be raised to act like it!"
"Um, where did – Manfred – come from?" asked Aldrich. The baby was cute, yes. Also entirely inexplicable. "And why -"
"I'll explain everything when you make your century, hm, pretty prince?" said Wolfred, taking the baby back. "All we need to know for now is that Wolfren – alright, Manfred – is Phoebe's and my son. And we're to be married. Right?"
Aldrich looked mulish.
Phoebe said emphatically, "Right! So, off to bed, Aldrich, no doubt you've drunk like a fish tonight. Yes, off you go."
And Aldrich was pushed out into the hall and Phoebe shut the door in his face. He stared at the door for several moments before he noticed his buddies Franklin and Soujourn beckoning him from the stairs. So he shrugged and went back down to the after-party with them.
"Wolfred and Phoebe had a baby," Aldrich explained to them, practicing the lie for the first time. "While Phoebe was away. A boy, Manfred."
"Huh," said Franklin, not believing a word of it. "Cool."
"Well, at least you got rid of one of them, right?" consoled Soujourn. Aldrich blinked at him blankly. "Sophie'll move away, even if you're stuck with Phoebe."
"Oh…" said Aldrich. "Well… maybe she'll go visit Sophie. Lots."
-oOo-
A courier woke the badly hung-over Friedrich not long after dawn, with news that the 25th Maou – many hailed him as the greatest Maou of all time – had died in the night. A letter from Ulrike reiterated her previous instructions, and asked Friedrich who the new Maou was to be.
Friedrich still harbored hopes that Hugh would regain his senses, but found him in Cecilie's bedroom. By morning's light, they reaffirmed their intention to marry. So Friedrich told them that Cecilie was to be the new Maou. By the next day, she set off back to Spitzweg to settle her affairs, before taking up her duties at Blood Pledge Castle.
Kattrin and Julius, childhood friends, had a happy marriage and several children. But Julius died young. Elliot von Wincott, who had already served 50 years as regent for the young Julius, took up his role as regent again for their son Julian. Julian in turn served only 30 years as Lord, before falling in the same human wars that claimed the life of his cousin Suzanna Julia. And Elliot became regent for yet a third child Lord Wincott.
Sophie and Adeldan must have gotten lucky that very first night. They held the wedding in haste, and their son Adelbert von Gratz joined the family with little Manfred von Bielenfeld, a scant nine months after the ball. The boys were cross-fostered, and the sisters rarely parted, simply migrating between Castle Bielenfeld and Gratzberg. To all outward appearances, Sophie and Adeldan showed themselves a happy couple. But it took them 50 years to produce their second child, Brendan. And after 110 years of marriage, Adeldan abandoned wife, sons, and domain one day, without a word of explanation.
Phoebe and Wolfred, only ten years apart in age and raised together, had been bickering as long as they could remember. They never let marriage change that. But though they attacked each other viciously, they never let anyone else say a word against their spouse. Whether they consummated their union, perhaps Sophie knew, but no one else did. Wolfred was lost in combat in Mizrat, 30 years later. After Wolfred was gone, Phoebe became ever more strident in her defense of his memory. He turned into quite the manly hero in her portrayal, as she tried her damnedest to edit out the fact that he was gay. After about five years of grieving, she began a series of remarriages, none of which lasted very long. She was really happier during her unmarried spells, managing the business affairs and industry of the vastly wealthy Manfred von Bielenfeld plantation.
Wolfred died before Aldrich reached his century. He never told Aldrich or Manfred who Manfred's other parent really was, or how. Friedrich considered telling Manfred – not Aldrich – what little he knew, when the boy grew up. But he decided that the unnamed other parent would surely know that Lord Wolfred had died, and left it up to him whether to contact Manfred or not.
Cecilie von Spitzweg and General Hugh Lord Walde waited on children, first growing in their abilities and teamwork as Maou and Chancellor. Even Friedrich had to admit, that though neither of them would have made a good Maou on their own, the two of them together were splendid. The couple had one beloved son, Gwendal, 20 years after the ball. Only 30 years later, Hugh fell into a long illness, and eventually died in bed, the devoted Cecilie and Gwendal close at hand. In Friedrich's opinion, the 50 years of good rule under Cecilie and Hugh, was followed by 70 years of disastrous rule under Cecilie and Stoeffel, until Cecilie was forced to step down. The Ten Aristocrats elected Gwendal as regent, pending the arrival of the 27th Maou, being raised on another world.
Aldrich became the most popular coordinator of Aristocrat marriage balls in Shin Makoku. Though those who remembered his first ball, felt the others paled in comparison.
-oOo-
Feel free to suggest future one-shot ideas. One that hasn't quite gelled yet is Günter's Great Love.
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