Blossoms
Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou. And for this case, be glad that I don't. I don't believe I would want it to be as serious.
It was dawn, and the morning light was taking its time streaming in through the windows. Wolfram, however, would not wait for the yellow bands of sunshine to kiss his head on massive princely pillow; he dressed in his blue uniform and moved over to his balcony. He left no one in his bed, for that was it - it was Lord von Bielefeld's own bed, in his own room, and he spent the night in a solitary, though extremely uneasy, slumber.
The balcony faced the east, and the early sunshine was just starting to grow aplenty. The breeze caught his unbrushed hair - odd it was that he forgot to groom the rest of himself as he adorned his prized clothing - and lifted the golden strands to the fragrant breeze, while ruffling a few pink petals into them from the tree that grew above. The sweet scent of Gracious Greta - a newly dedicated flower - caressed Wolfram's face as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes.
Ah, if they saw the Selfish Little Brat here in his current setting, how would the inhabitants of the Blood Pledge Castle swoon! The maids would be all aflutter, Lord von Kleist would forget his jealous regard for the his Majesty, his brothers Lord Weller and Lord von Voltaire would gaze at him in silence, the former with the gentle look of a care-giver, and the other with an air of stiff approval.
His Majesty would approve as well, but never fall into the ecstasy that the youngest prince desired of him. Unwillingly, Wolfram's mind went back to events of the previous evening.
After the celebrations marking the start of Yuuri's third year of service to the Demon Kingdom, the young monarch retired to his bedroom. Wolfram followed, and as soon as Yuuri donned his nightwear (as his fiancé watched), Yuuri, with his back facing Wolfram said, "I can't make that decision, Wolfram. I'm sorry if the kingdom was expecting us to renew our engagement vows, but I just can't do it."
Wolfram swallowed inaudibly, and even though he would not believe it himself, he accused, purely out of habit, "it's that girl you were dancing with, wasn't it?"
Yuuri knew that he was bluffing, and turned to face the blonde prince, "Wolfram, you know I wouldn't...and you know that I'm not ready to make a decision, because I still can't imagine myself being with a guy..."
His oft-repeated confession was cut short as Wolfram lunged forward to place his lips on Yuuri's. Yuuri froze, his mouth closed, resisting against Wolfram's tongue.
And so Wolfram knew. The Lady Cecelie's son faced the rejection that she had never had, and swiftly turned around and departed.
Wolfram continued to stand. Let his skin be warmed in the morning glow, even though his heart begins its descent into frozen depths. If this is rejection, may it be sweet, in the beautiful sunbathed presence of his daughter's blossoms.
***
The young Great Sage looked up in his walk at dawn, and beheld the soft glow of the tear-streaked face of the former queen's youngest son, unaware of the presence of the Original King's Consort below. His world-weary eyes gazed at the scene above for a few moments, after which he lowered his face and shook his head sadly. "Shibuya, you're an idiot," Murata muttered under his breath, and walked on.
Author's Note: This was originally supposed to be another chapter of my story/series of one-shots Chronicles of Color, but then I decided that the tone was far too serious. If you could, let me know what you think, and if you want something more lighthearted, try Chronicles of Color. Enjoy!
No musical inspiration; instead, it was a beautiful sunny morning on my porch which helped this one-shot along.