And his reflections brought him to the fact that he knew little to nothing about Gwendal or Günter. It wasn't all that hard to figure out why, since if he expressed interest in Günter, he'd never get away and Gwendal was too scary to even consider asking how his childhood went. It was so easy with Konrad or Wolfram, since he could ask with little thought as to what might happen to him once he did.
"Yuuri! Stop looking so spaced out, wimp!"
This time, Yuuri didn't rise to the bait and only looked at Wolfram pleadingly. "Hey, Wolfram. Can't we take a break?"
Wolfram's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?"
"I want to find Konrad. I have a question for him."
He met Wolfram's intense and frankly, mistrustful stare with one of his own and the other boy raised his paintbrush threateningly. Yuuri fought the urge to wheedle and plead, as he didn't think he could stand sitting still much longer and the smell was beginning to make him go faint in the head.
"Fine, it's basically done anyway," Wolfram sniffed and finished up with a few strokes.
Almost afraid to see, Yuuri stood and peered over his fiancé's shoulder. Though he'd never say so, he thought that if Wolfram had intended to follow in Picasso's footsteps, he'd have a very bright future doing so. And he also wondered, though he was afraid to ask, what had gotten Wolfram into the habit of painting.
"I think Konrad is downstairs in the courtyard, drilling the soldiers."
Wolfram's voice was slightly sulky, but Yuuri was used to it by now. Wolfram was a very jealous creature by nature and he had had his fair share of being slammed by an elbow, strangled, dragged by his ear, and thoroughly abused enough to know that first hand.
Indeed, Konrad was exactly where Wolfram had predicted him to be and when he saw the young Maou king heading toward him, he smiled and gave the soldier he was teaching a rest. He could see the question in the soft and welcoming, dark brown eyes and he figured it was because he'd somehow managed to convince Wolfram to let him go. That, or the fact that he wasn't sporting a livid bruise from a violent fiancé at the current moment.
"Konrad!"
"Heika—I mean, Yuuri. What are you doing here? If you have free time, Günter would suggest that you spend it studying."
"That's what I wanted to ask you about, though."
"About what?"
"Günter."
Konrad tilted his head and led the two men to the relative quiet of the hallways of Blood Pledge Castle. "What about him?"
"Well, I've always wondered. Him and Gwendal are the only ones I've seen that have long hair. Well, outside of the women here. Why?"
"Now that I think of it," Wolfram muttered, "as far as I've ever seen, both brother and Günter have always had long hair. Nobody ever questioned it either."
Konrad looked thoughtful and before Yuuri knew it, he was being led toward the library, where Günter always seemed to be found when he wasn't wandering the halls in search of an often very missing Shibuya Yuuri. "I think that at one point, there was a bit of a fuss over it, but I can't remember very well, so let's ask the man himself."
Günter looked up as in the silence, the door opening could clearly be heard. He blinked, as if he were surprised to see the three of them approaching him. In fact, he appeared so surprised that all he could do was lower his book a little and stare in perplexity. Yuuri had to admit that perhaps that he had a right to be, considering that the young teenager rarely ever actually sought out the scholar and spent most of his time sneaking away.
"Günter, Heika wishes to know something."
At Konrad's amused smile as he spoke, the lavender eyes lit up and Yuuri swore he saw sparkles at one point. As he had expected, Günter jumped to his feet and began a little dance that usually meant he was excited beyond the point of words.
"That's wonderful, Heika!! I shall tell you anything you want to know! From dragons to dances to the various wedding rituals of other nations—"
"Günter!" Yuuri interrupted, hoping to calm the man, as he feared that one day, the advisor would get so excited, he'd have a heart attack. "I just want to know why you have long hair!"
"…Eh? You want to know about me?"
Instead of having the epiphany that Yuuri expected, Günter blinked and turned a shade of pink that actually made him very pretty. Surprised and intrigued by the reaction, he pressed for more information. "Yeah, you and Gwendal are the only men in the castle that I've seen have long hair. Why? Was it a fashion that went out of style? Or don't you like to cut it?"
"H-Heika, really…you shouldn't be so concerned about me…it warms me until I can't speak that you are so curious, but there's really nothing to tell…!" Günter stuttered a little.
Wolfram leaned close to his ear and muttered, "Get the feeling he doesn't want to talk about it?"
But like a curious young boy, Yuuri couldn't leave it alone and he knew very well that Günter was very rarely able to say no to the recently appointed king. "But I want to know, Günter, and Gwendal is too scary to ask."
"It's also more than likely that Gwendal won't answer," Konrad added, a subtle and almost hidden smile on his lips.
Given the pressing on all sides, Günter gave an uncharacteristic sigh and sat back down, still obviously embarrassed. "Well, it happened around the time that Konrad five or so…"
Günter von Kleist was a smart child and one that many would not hesitate to say was 'gifted'. He excelled in his academic work and though he had a few rough patches when learning it, soon even fencing fell under his complete control. He'd even been accelerated up a few grades to those of an older age.
However, if there was one thing that Günter wished he could exchange all his 'gifts' and smarts for, it was better looks. He was very effeminate, a fact that his classmates around him never let him forget. They would tug on his hair, make rude jokes, and tease him about wearing dresses.
He had no friends.
Because no matter what he said, whenever he spoke he was always laughed at, he became a shy and introverted boy. His mother and father advised him to just ignore it and hold his head high, as he was born from a noble family that the others weren't, but it did nothing except make the only classmates that weren't teasing him avoid him. They took his silence as not shyness, but snotty.
Günter got used to it over the years and though it stung, it no longer hurt as it had when he was a child. All he wished for was an escape, so he threw all his efforts into his studying. When it became painfully clear at the beginning of a new school year that he was not straining at all with the effort of his grade level, the teachers would pass him higher and higher until he was at his final senior level in four years instead of the seven it would have taken. He was surrounded by students that were at least five years older than himself, if not more than that.
If he had thought that things would get better, he was sorely mistaken. Most of his classmates found him 'impertinent' and a 'show off'. Günter tried not to let it bother him. He just wanted to graduate from the Academy and find a place he could go and fit in, to use the skills he had acquired.
He would never have noticed him, as Günter was always looking down more often than not to avoid others' eyes, had it not been for a fencing lesson. He had been paired up with a big, strong boy whose expression was severe and unwelcoming. It was something Günter was used to, so he paid it little heed. He took in the slate gray hair color that was only long enough to tickle the back of his neck, but it was the sapphire eyes that caught Günter. They were dark and deep, much deeper than the jewel they were often called after, and lit with the ice-cold fire of determination.
Though their fight wasn't overlong or very short, Günter had found that for the first time in years, he had landed flat on his back and his sword flung from his hand. His lavender eyes widened in shock, but the stoic expression on his opponent's face hadn't changed.
"Your flank was only lightly guarded. Work on it and you won't lose next time."
After that, Günter couldn't help haunting the other boy's steps and studying him as intently as he studied his books. It wasn't that he was just older and knew more. Günter had beaten the other students of the same year with little trouble. No, this man had his own 'gift'. No matter how hard Günter worked, he could not beat this boy in fencing, though his grades did take the first spot and left the second for his opponent.
He'd also learned his name: Gwendal von Voltaire.
The name suited him, Günter thought and couldn't help thinking over the fact that Gwendal was all that Günter wished he could be. He was strong and unwavering, powerful and handsome. No one would ever dare tease him about being effeminate and girly, as he was far from looking that way.
After two weeks of observation, Günter had finally worked up the nerve to approach and talk to Gwendal. As like the first and only time they'd spoken or were partnered together, the older boy was not overly friendly, but Günter had expected that. He'd learned through his studying that Gwendal's stern look was not limited to just him. He treated everyone the same, including the instructor's.
He'd also learned, with some surprise, that Gwendal was the son of the current Maou, Cecilie von Spitzberg. Despite Gwendal's gruff nature and very express wishes to be left alone, Günter refused to do so. He wanted to know more about this person, things that he couldn't learn just by watching from afar.
Perhaps it was just because his presence became commonplace after several months, but Gwendal no longer began to order him to leave him alone. He never seemed surprised anymore when Günter would pop out of nowhere and entreaties his friend to read for a few hours with him.
Under the care of their admittedly peculiar friendship, Günter began to bloom. Something almost like a delayed puberty hit and he grew into his own looks. He no longer appeared so feminine, but nor did he look overly manly. The only word to describe him would have been 'beautiful', regardless of gender. The terrible shyness and fear of being teased began to wear off and the true, energetic and emotional person he was began to show, like sunlight shining through the cracks of a boarded up window.
It soon became odd to see either Gwendal or Günter alone. Their combined presence became normal, almost like a set. And where one was, the other was usually not far behind. Oftentimes, Gwendal's name rang out over the yard during breaks when Günter went looking for his friend. And though Gwendal never answered back, he would always stand and move to sit somewhere else more visible so that the silver-haired companion could always find him.
However, things were not as great as it seemed. Günter did everything he could to hide it and Gwendal seemed to hold no interest in prying. Perhaps he was just ashamed of it, but he couldn't fight it. The somewhat harmless teasing of his classmates had turned cruel when he had begun to change and grow. Most of it he was still familiar with, but some gestures and some implications left him feeling cold. Sexual harassment, he'd found out it was called from his books, which aside from Gwendal, were his only friends.
But nothing had happened so far and he had just turned to hope that they meant nothing and would do nothing except verbally torment him. His defenses had crumbled in the time he'd been left alone and become Gwendal's friend, but he didn't need them anymore. Whenever he felt upset, he would just run to Gwendal and the sheer presence would be enough to calm him. Gwendal never asked why he would sometimes come running to him, stressed and looking as if he'd sprinted until his legs would drop out from under him. He would just let Günter sit and they would read in quiet or just watch the surroundings without speaking.
In his mind, Günter knew that even if his classmates became violent, he could physically defend himself easily. But that same mind that knew that also became paralyzingly fearful after years of conditioning. They never said anything when Gwendal was near to overhear, so Günter stuck even closer to his big friend, even as rumors of a lascivious relationship between them began to circle among the students.
Günter couldn't say if he looked forward to the holidays or not. Before, he'd always been unable to wait until they were there where he could go home for a few moments of peace. It had been that way for years. But now, with Gwendal as his friend, he began to hesitate. Gwendal would remain at the Academy during the break, with a few other handful of students. When he'd asked why, Gwendal had only shrugged and mumbled an answer that he'd be leaving for good in a few months after graduation, so he could wait.
After a bit of a debate, Günter sent home a letter saying that he would be staying at the school for the week off. Surprised and happy, as he had mentioned he made a friend, his mother sent a gift to him: a nicely made band for his long hair, which had reached his knees by now. Despite the fact that his classmates teased him mercilessly over his long, feminine hair, he loved it all the same. He was…proud of it.
He was on his way to the dorms where he knew Gwendal was reading and he couldn't wait to show off his gift that was set at the nape of his neck, gathering his long strands loosely and prettily together. Seeing no teachers or students around, he sped up his pace to the dorms, filled with an excited energy.
That energy turned to fear as he rounded a corner and saw five of the bigger boys of his class waiting for him. He clutched the two, hardcover books he carried in his hand and attempted to go around them, but they dodged and blocked his path no matter how many times he tried.
Had he a sword in his hand, he would have been more confident. With a sword, he could have handled it. But the weapons were set aside in the storage sheds for class. Considering the propensity for fighting among the students, the school had forbidden weapons to be carried outside of fencing and fighting classes.
Günter swallowed and figured running was a good idea, but his only escape route became blocked before he could even turn around. Their eyes were unfriendly as they blocked him in and he considered the best way to get away. He excelled in strategy, this should be easy, right, he chanted in his mind.
He lashed out with a kick at the boy toward his left, taking out a kneecap and shoving away another that had reached for him. The way was open now and he burst into a run, having taken out only enough to get himself free.
Pounding on the ground behind him said that he wasn't going to be let off that easily and he tried to run faster. He would have made it, but one of the boys had a longer reach than expected and a hand latched onto his hair. He cursed the hair band he had once been so happy he'd gotten only hours ago even as he was dragged back, kicking and screaming, into five different pairs of hands. Had he not worn it, they would have had any purchase on his hair and used it against him.
The books landed on the ground, the bindings breaking as careless feet stepped on them and twisted, sending pages everywhere. Günter screamed like a cornered cat as they pushed him down on his stomach, hurriedly clamoring for something one of them had and trying to hold down a violently thrashing young boy.
He feared rape, but even that, he was sure at the time, would have been better than what had happened. They tugged at his hair painfully, as hard as they could, and tears began to stream down his cheeks. Then there was a ripping sound and the pain was gone. The pull was gone, but only because they had taken a knife and slashed it off. What they said, why they laughed, as they let his hair rain down around him to the ground, Günter couldn't tell.
The wind blew the loose pages of his book away as he sat up and looked at the lavender strands that covered the ground. In disbelief, his hand lifted to touch what he had left. It was uneven and crude, barely touching his ears now. He winced when a cut panged from his touch and he realized that somehow during his thrashing, they had managed to nick his ear with the knife.
Günter didn't even register how badly he was sobbing as he gathered up what loose hair he could, as if by sheer will, he could put it back. Their cruel behavior had escalated to violence and he hadn't been able to break free no matter how hard he'd tried. Calmly, almost too calmly, he dried his eyes and grabbed his broken books and broken heart. He stumbled his way to the dorms and knocked lightly on the door that he knew Gwendal was in.
It swung open a minute later and for the first time in their friendship, Günter saw an expression come Gwendal's face. It was shock, plain and simple. Günter slipped like a tiny eel into the room without being invited and gently set down his books on a nearby table. He used that free hand to dust his rumpled and torn clothing off until Gwendal held his arm still and he realized he was still shaking.
"What happened, Günter?"
"Nothing. I—"
"Your hair getting sliced off can't possibly happen if you just fell," Gwendal snarled and forced the smaller boy to look at him. "So don't lie to me."
Before he realized it, Günter was sobbing again. The strands of his hair that he had covetously gathered and clutched slid from his fingers to the floor and he buried his face in his hands. Gwendal had always given off an aura of no touching, but this time, Günter couldn't heed to that and latched himself to the bigger boy.
Surprisingly, arms went around his back and held him tight. The warmth, the strength, in the embrace was welcome. He'd never felt safer, his body engulfed by the aura of the bigger one. Nothing could ever hurt him if he was in these arms.
By the time Gwendal had gotten Günter to calm down and stop sobbing long enough to breathe, the younger boy managed to get out most of what had happened. He didn't want to look in a mirror as Gwendal did damage control on his hair, trimming it so it was even, because he didn't want to see what he looked then. He probably looked terrible, ugly…
"You can always grow your hair back, you know."
"I can't!" he protested, trying to stifle his wails. "If I do, they'll just do it again! They'll say it's not manly to have long hair, like a sissy, and just cut it again!"
Gwendal snorted and frowned heavily. "Having long hair has nothing to do with manliness or not."
"Y-You can say that, because you're so handsome and strong and-and-" Günter hiccupped several times, and took a long drink of the water Gwendal had handed him some time ago.
"Then I'll grow mine out."
Günter glanced up and wondered if he should be pathetically hopeful or skeptical. "You will?"
"Yes." He paused. "And if anyone ever bullies you again, tell me."
Günter sniffed and crossed his arms, drawing himself into a tiny ball as he curled on the bed. "I can take care of myself."
"Not five against one and unarmed. Call me and I'll come."
For a moment, he didn't say anything and then reached out to grip Gwendal's hand tightly. He'd believe in his friend. He had to, or he might just not have enough left in him to have faith in anything anymore. "You promise?"
"Yeah."
"…Okay," he whispered. His eyes slipped closed in exhaustion and he barely registered, Gwendal lying down behind him and holding him lightly as he slept.
Günter shifted in his chair under the rapt attention of the new, young king, his fiancé and his bodyguard. "After that, I heard that while I slept, Gwendal went and got into such fierce fights with the boys that they were all suspended for two weeks. Guess we should all be grateful he didn't have a sword."
"And did brother really grow his hair out after that?"
"Yes. Cheri-sama didn't seem to disapprove and ever since that day, he's never had it cut. Either Anissina or myself will occasionally trim it, but he's kept his word ever since."
"What happened after that?"
Günter smiled a little at Yuuri's prompting, even if he preferred not to talk about his past. "We graduated together and Gwendal brought me with him to Blood Pledge Castle, where I've been ever since." He paused and his normal, euphoric smile came back. "Now, Heika, since you're in such a mood to learn, I have several books with me to teach you—"
He hadn't even finished speaking before there was a very notable Yuuri-shaped hole in the air where the young Maou had been. Wolfram blinked and then went off on a tear outside the library, screeching for his fiancé. Konrad chuckled and excused himself, muttering something about finishing drilling the recruits.
After a minute of silence, Günter snapped his book shut and stood, heading down the hall to Gwendal's office. He wanted to see him now.