Hello everyone! I'm back once again with a drabble story! This time, though, it's not going to be connected with my Fall and Winter story. Treat this drabble story as a separate story line (like there was one to begin with?) Wolfram and Yuuri are married in this, and that's about all you need to know~ This will be, what? My third year of doing these? Yay for tradition!
Also! I'm thinking about starting a blogspot for my writing where you can read about advice that I have, preventing writer's block, future story ideas, and what I do to prep myself for writing. If you would be interested in reading something like that, let me know!
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Sometimes, when Wolfram von Bielefeld was in a particularly lazy mood, he would lie in bed hours after waking and just think. He had been doing it ever since he was a little boy. He would wake up in his bed – one that was much too big for a child his size—and just contemplate the world.
The thoughts would range from all subjects. He would think about his family, his toys, what games he would play that day. Many, many things that Wolfram couldn't even really remember once he got up. He mostly thought about how lonely he was. How he was often left to his own devices. He never really felt like he truly belonged in the castle, and the only person who seemed to listen was Elizabeth.
As he grew older, the mornings in bed never diminished. He still sat in bed thinking, but the thoughts turned from games and fun to war and strategy. What was he going to do with his life? Who would be become?
During this phase of his life, Wolfram often thought of his oldest brother, Gwendal. He would think about what a great general he was, how talented. And sometimes, he would hesitantly acknowledge Conrart's military skill.
He would think about how he felt left behind when all of his friends ran off to play soldier while he rotted away in the castle. Even the most minor noble's son had joined the forces in the Great Demon Kingdom's fight against humanity. And for those who had remained, like himself, most of them had long since married and were starting families of their own. Once again, Wolfram was alone. But he was much too old to complain about it. Rather, he admitted that he would probably never marry and moved on with his life. There wasn't such a rare person who could pledge to deal with Wolfram's rages and tantrums for the rest of their lives, and Wolfram wasn't going to change himself for the sake of some unknown, faceless love, so he would just remain as he was.
As he grew older and the war ended, Wolfram's thoughts shifted more towards the future. What was he going to do now that there wasn't a war to fight in? What should he do to better help his country? As the third son and a bastard, he was promised little later on in life. Every honor he held presently was one that he, himself, worked to obtain.
Wolfram often contemplated if he would get married. Despite his earlier claim that he would simply never find anyone to marry, the thoughts of years spent alone still left him with an empty feeling in his chest. Was he truly unloveable? He highly doubted it. He just wasn't the type to marry, nevertheless love. He would be fine by himself. Just as he had always been.
He sometimes fancied the thought of becoming a hermit who would remain hidden away from the world.
Yes, Wolfram von Bielefeld would simply never find anyone to love because there wasn't a single person on the face of the planet who could look past his anger enough to love him for himself. So that was that. He pushed those thoughts away and submerged himself into the life of a young noble, ignoring the hollow feeling of loneliness for the unknown love that would never be.
Now, at his current age of 92, he thought about his husband.