Right, so…here we are in chapter two. It was nice to come home from work today and write this chapter, because sometimes my job is really hard—emotionally speaking. In the last chapter, Gwendal and Yuuri rocky start quickly went downhill, and in Chapter two, our gentlemen start to pick up the pieces. There are more conflicts to come, and hopefully a surprise or two, but you are all such careful readers you will no doubt anticipate me! Thank you so much for your reviews, and scythe, it was lovely to see you again! Hopefully your questions will be answered in this and later chapters. I will answer reviews just as soon as I can, but this weekend is going to be a long one for me at work—so I will work on my replies as soon as possible. Thank you for reading this one…it may take some serious effort for me to get it done! I still don't own the Maou, etc., and you can insert your favorite disclaimers here. I'll see you at the bottom of the page…
Chapter Two: A Soldier, An Adjutant and A Maou walk into a bath…
When Gwendal arrived at Blood Pledge Castle the morning after the disastrous marriage celebration, all was strangely quiet. Even though he knew Yuuri-heika had returned safely, as evidenced by the soldiers who arrived later to retrieve him, there was no sign of the young Maou. Gwendal supposed the king was sleeping in, and the general was a bit envious. His own embarrassment had prevented him from returning at all, so he had stayed at the scene of the carriage wreck, waiting until daylight so he could assess the situation properly. He was unsettled to the point that his usual frown-lines looked more like grooves beneath his eyes. The morning sun had revealed the truth that the carriage accident was no accident at all. The axle had been tampered with, expertly sawed so that they would accomplish most of their journey before the weakened wood finally gave way. The horses' tack—the long lengths of harness—had also been cut, not quite the entire way through, so that when the vehicle overturned, they were loosed. Someone, as yet unidentified, had intended harm to the Maou at least, and it was an assassination attempt at worst.
Gwendal craved his bed, and the solace of forgetfulness that sleep would bring, but he could not spare himself that luxury. He needed to inform Gunter and Conrad of the results of his investigation. The truth was, though, that he could probably rest for a few hours before dropping this latest piece of damnable news, but his restless spirit wouldn't settle. Though he could sense life stirring within the castle walls—smells of food cooking, the laughter of maids as they rushed about their domestic duties, and the sounds of soldiers and horses, he was still, surprisingly alone as he walked through the halls. That in and of itself was disheartening, but not altogether unusual. He knew that most of the inhabitants of the castle avoided him on principle. The only people who sought him out intentionally, if he was honest, were Gunter, Greta, and Anissina—especially when she wanted to torture him with some new experiment. He told himself that he didn't mind. He had resigned himself long ago to a solitary existence and he had actively worked to make sure that he was rarely disturbed. So, if he was lonely, then he had only himself to blame.
The image of the Maou, however, looking at him with undisguised hurt and anger refused to leave Gwendal's internal eye. He regretted his harsh words, spoken out of embarrassed shame, but it was too late to take them back. Perhaps, he thought, he could ease the sensation of guilt if he was able to simply look at the king, and assure himself that the young ruler was safe and well. He could sort out how to apologize to him later, but for now, he couldn't calm his nerves until he made sure that Yuuri-heika was all right. He had failed in his duty last night—first by not keeping the Maou safe, second by provoking the king's wrath, and third by allowing the young man out of his sight. Determined, therefore, to begin to atone for his errors, Gwendal made his way to the royal chamber. He stood before the door for long minutes, torn as to whether or not to knock. If he awakened the king, then the young man might be even angrier, but if he did nothing, perhaps the Maou would think him completely remiss in his duties. His decision made, he raised his hand and knocked on the door. The thick oak muffled the sound of his fist, but the echo was still clearly audible. There was, however, no answer. Gwendal waited a few moments, then knocked once more. Again his wordless request was met with silence. He tried the knob. The door swung open easily, and he looked inside. The king's chamber appeared as it always did—neat and tidy, with the Maou's few personal possessions eclipsed by the clutter that had always seemed to follow his youngest brother. There was evidence of Greta's habitation as well—a doll and a few hair ribbons, but the bed was neatly made, and appeared to have lacked one particular person overnight. Sure, Yuuri-heika could have arisen early and gone to work, but something about the quiet of the room, the air of gentle disuse simply told Gwendal that Yuuri-heika had not slept there. Perhaps the young man hadn't slept at all. The idea of the young king being too upset to take his rest, of wandering the halls in anger or hurt seemed to slice at Gwendal's heart. He didn't think he could feel worse.
He closed the door and turned on his heel, striding with his usual measured gait back toward his office. He would at least clear his desk of morning work before considering sleeping. He couldn't call it penance—not out loud at least. Still, if Yuuri-heika had spent the night awake and uncomfortable, he would spend the day in a similar fashion. His office was not empty when he arrived. Both Conrad and Gunter were waiting on him, it seemed. They were seated in the two chairs opposite his desk, and had obviously been waiting for some time.
"Where's Yuuri-heika?" he asked, any preamble seemed superfluous.
"He is working...in his office," Gunter said, his voice heavy with meaning.
"I…I see." Gwendal swallowed hard and sat down behind his desk. The Maou was angry indeed, he supposed. A quick glance at the conference table supported Gunter's statement. The little area that the Maou had carved out for himself, annexed more accurately, was devoid of any evidence of the king's presence. Everything was gone—his large and unwieldy mug that Greta had made for him, and from which he had his morning coffee, his smaller cup of those writing implements that he called pencils and pens, his datebook, and all the little bits of detritus that Gwendal had come to associate with the young man. It was all gone.
"I see he took everything but his work," Gwendal said, finally, his feelings hurt more than he thought possible. On his conference table were three towering stacks of documents, and he recognized some of them as tasks he'd set for the king.
"Actually, those represent the work Yuuri-heika has completed since he returned to the castle." Gunter's eyes were cold, shining like gemstones. His features were placid and his voice was quiet, but Gwendal could feel the anger radiating from the adjutant's body like the vibration from a taut bowstring.
"Completed…?"
"The papers on the right have all been signed, stamped, and are ready for delivery. The center pile requires clarification from you, questions he has after reading them through, and those on the left are read, signed and ready for filing." Conrad said, observing his thumbnail with singular focus. "I arrived only an hour ago or so. I stayed in the city until it was time to see Lady Gilbit off—she is returning to Caloria. When I arrived, the guards told me there had been a carriage accident after you and Yuuri left the theater. So. What happened, Gwendal?"
"After we left the theater, just a few miles from the castle, the carriage axle broke and we crashed. Yuuri-heika chose to return home, escorted by the captain of my guard. I remained behind to investigate the scene. It was sabotage."
Gunter waved his hand in dismissal and irritation. "Of course it was sabotage. It's always something—sabotage of the carriage, kidnapping, impending war—and we always handle that. This will be no different. However, Conrad tells me that by the end of the evening you became the Maou's lover, and then he returns here…in tears. IN TEARS, Gwendal! The first thing he does is come in here, throw all of his possessions into a box and carries them to his office, that had a layer of dust over everything at least one inch thick because he never, NEVER, uses it, and he has locked himself inside. He has refused to speak to anyone save the young page who carries the documents he hands him, before the ink is even dry, so that he can have them delivered here. So, what I want to know is what you have done to my Yuuri-Heika!"
Gwendal pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and bowed his head. "I might have been a little harsh during our discussion in the carriage."
"You yelled at him." Conrad said. It wasn't a question. "Gwendal, I'm very sorry. Last night was a trial for everyone, you and Yuuri most of all, but he was trying his best to make up for putting you in such an awful position. Couldn't you have spared him—even a little?"
"I lost my temper," Gwendal said softly, his head pounding. "I apologize, Conrad."
"I don't think I'm the one who needs the apology, brother."
Gwendal sighed, his muscles trembling slightly from exhaustion. The tension and the stress from the night before were beginning to catch up with him. The piles of documents on his table mocked him, and his eyes burned.
"I'll speak to him."
Gunter's eyes flashed and he tossed his head. "I hope you can remedy the situation, Gwendal. This is hardly an auspicious beginning to your new relationship."
"It's not as though the Maou wants me, Gunter, so you hardly need worry yourself over my new status. I will, however, do my best to mollify him."
"Idiot." Gunter said, shaking his head.
"What Gunter means," Conrad said quickly, reaching out to hold Gunter's wrist, "is that you shouldn't assume you understand what the Maou is thinking, brother. Just talk to him. If he will speak to you at all."
"I said what I meant the first time," Gunter snorted, his beautiful face hard as he tossed his hair. "You're an idiot."
"Enough!" Gwendal said, his control snapping as he slammed his hands on his desk, making both men start in their chairs. "We are all under a great deal of stress, and I know you are worried for Yuuri-heika's happiness, Gunter, but I will not sit here and allow you to insult me—even if you are my oldest friend. I said I would talk to him and I will. Now, may I have a moment to collect myself, if it's not too damned much to ask!"
--O.o.O—
Shibuya Yuuri, Harajuko Fuuri, twenty-seventh Maou of Shin Makoku sat behind his desk, his elbows propped on the wood top, his fingers laced together, and his forehead resting on his knuckles. His eyes were tired and his shoulders were aching, but he had finally, after almost ten straight hours of tedious work, finished the stack of paperwork that he'd carried with him from Gwendal's office. He still wasn't ready to face the residents of his castle, but at the very least he had accomplished something—no matter how slight. Frowning, he thought about the sheer number of documents he'd just read, reviewed, and signed. He should have been working like this for years, but there always seemed to be some temptation alluring enough to draw him away from the more staid tasks that defined being the Maou. Regardless of what others might think, the vast majority of his job was quite dull.
And he wasn't even sure if he was qualified to do the work. No, he thought, shaking his head. That wasn't true. He knew very well that he was not qualified to be the Maou. He should have stayed on Earth after releasing the Original King from the shackles that had bound his spirit. It was hard to think that his entire existence had been orchestrated simply to accomplish that one goal, but no matter how he deliberated on it, that was still the conclusion he always drew. He wasn't really needed in Shin Makoku—he hadn't even been born or raised there, and he knew the truth even if everyone else was too kind, or too bound by honor to raise the issue—he was not a worthy king. He was the second son of very normal parents, the lesser star in a foreign sky. He was not the intelligent strategist that his older brother had become. Shori had finally taken over as Maou of Earth, and even though Bob remained by his side as his most trusted advisor, Yuuri's sibling had matured into a shining example of what it meant to govern a people as diverse as the Mazoku of Earth. And what had Yuuri become? He sighed and frowned against his hands—nothing better than the young figurehead of a government he didn't even really understand. Long ago, Cheri-sama had once advised him to take his responsibilities seriously—to not fear his duty as Maou, but to embrace his power and his calling, so that he might lead the Mazoku into the future he had so naively envisioned. He knew that she regretted, deeply, her own hesitancy that had allowed her brother's ambition to eclipse her own vision of Shin Makoku's future. She regretted standing idly by, too frightened to contradict her warmongering sibling's military designs, even though she was more inclined to seek peace with their neighbors. He had promised to do his best, and he had done just that. Still, he knew it wasn't enough.
Gwendal was right. He was a naïve, foolish, and useless king. It wasn't as if he actually had any real talent when it came to governing—not that he did that much of it, anyway. Usually, he just listened to Gunter, Gwendal and Conrad, and only contradicted them when his innate sense of justice was crossed. And, if he was honest about that, it was really the Maou inside of him that had the over-developed sense of right and wrong. He had grown, it was true, and his voice had deepened, and he even wore his hair slightly longer than before, but…compared to the demons that made up his cabinet of close advisors, he was nothing more than a kid—a sheltered, cosseted pet. He looked around his office—even the furniture was older than he was, and it at least belonged here. But, where did he belong? For a long time, he had thought being in Shin Makoku was like living out an adventure—it was exciting, thrilling, and had that strange quality of not being quite…real. Then, as time moved forward, as it always does, and he met new people and lost friends, it began to dawn on him that this place, this untouched, to his mind, unspoiled paradise of a world without cell phones, cars, and cities that reached to the sky and belched out their pollution even higher than that…this place was real. The people who dwelled both in and out of the borders of Shin Makoku had lives of their own. They had cares and concerns. The lived, they loved, they struggled and…they died. They were real. And, they deserved a better ruler than an imprudent, headstrong baseball boy with delusions of grandeur. He could name, off the top of his head, at least three men currently living in this castle who would make a better ruler than he did: Gunter, Conrad, and Gwendal. All of them were more qualified, had greater skills, insight and intelligence than he did. Apart from them, he was sure he could name more—beginning with Anissina and ending with Gisela. Even Wolfram would be preferable to himself. Wolfram had at the very least been born here, and he came from the right parentage, and he understood what things were important in politics, where Yuuri simply spent his time wondering why everyone had such difficulty getting along. He didn't understand, even after all this time, all the traditions and customs of this place and he was still getting himself into trouble—as evidenced by the events of the night before.
That little thought brought an image of a very angry, disenchanted Gwendal to his mind, and the Maou found himself crying again. His tears were bitter, tiny drops of self-reproach. He didn't feel sorry for himself, since he considered all of Gwendal's criticisms to be quite justified. He was just…hurt. Of all the people who challenged and pushed him to be better than he was—it was Gwendal and his opinion that Yuuri took most to heart. To know that he was, and always had been, an utter disappointment to the brave general made the young man's heart ache. Gunter had done his best to teach him, over long years, both the ancient and modern history of Shin Makoku. He had proved to be an able tutor and invaluable adjutant, and Yuuri knew without question that Gunter was devoted to him, loved him—and as a consequence, he always seemed to find a way to ease Yuuri's responsibilities, often completing the tasks Yuuri should have been doing himself, just to please his lazy king. And Conrad—what could be said about his Nazukeoya except to say that their relationship had always defied explanation. He had known Yuuri since before he was born and was as close to the king as the Maou's own father—perhaps even closer since Yuuri had begun the vast majority of his time in Shin Makoku—only visiting home rarely. Conrad would always protect him, and would shield him from every enemy, any threat—and possibly even the harsh truth of Yuuri's myriad shortcomings. Wolfram insulted him regularly, but what spurred his restive fiancé was still a mystery to Yuuri. The blonde seemed more concerned with Yuuri's social actions, always criticizing what he wore, how he spoke, or who he talked to on any given day. Yuuri knew he wasn't a wimp, and he had never been unfaithful to his fiancé—not that he even wanted Wolfram as a fiancé, still, he hadn't had the chance to even think about cheating on the jealous demon—so it was irritating, and becoming more so daily, but he didn't take those comments to heart. Gwendal, however, was nothing less than what he appeared. Maybe he was more than he appeared, but certainly nothing less. His tall, handsome, dour General did nothing but tell him the truth—regardless of how hard that truth might be to accept. He had never babied Yuuri, instead, he had insisted that the Maou grow the hell up and learn what it meant to be king. Unfortunately, Yuuri acknowledged, sighing, all of Gwendal's instruction had been wasted. Yuuri was ineffective when it came to all but the most simple of tasks, and although he had grown, as a Maou he was decidedly lacking. Yuuri snorted, wiping at his wet eyes harshly with his fingers. How had it all come to this…? Here he was, sitting in his office, hiding from the one person he wanted to see the most, because even though he knew that Gwendal did not admire him, his stubborn heart refused to consider the General in any other role than that of the perfect man—and seeing him would just hurt too much.
The king's thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on his door. "Just a moment," he said, wiping his eyes and then rubbing his wet hands on his pants. He gathered up the final documents he'd finished reading and stood. His legs were shaky, but he decided he would hand these papers off to Marcus, the young page, and then maybe try to get some sleep—perhaps he'd feel a little better after some rest. He opened the door, his greeting dying on his lips as he saw Gwendal, looking as tired as he, himself, felt.
"Heika," his General said, scowling. "I—"
"I'm sorry, Gwendal," Yuuri said quickly, shoving the sheaf of parchment into the tall man's hands. "I meant to get these to you before. But, that should catch us up."
"Your eyes are red." Gwendal hadn't even bothered to look at the work Yuuri had done.
Yuuri stood there, stupidly. He had no idea what to say.
"And…you're shaking. You haven't slept at all, have you?"
Yuuri looked down, unsure of what to say. Gwendal's frown deepened.
"You will make yourself sick, Heika. You must think of your health."
"I'm fine." Yuuri blinked rapidly, trying to stem the flow of fresh tears. He was prepared, he thought, for Gwendal's stern chastisements, but he wasn't prepared for the gentle touch of Gwendal's knuckles grazing over his cheek.
"You're not fine at all."
Yuuri hesitated. The somber demon in front of him seemed…worried, and he didn't know how to respond to that. Gwendal was never gentle—at least never with anyone over the age of ten.
"You were right—everything you said was right." Yuuri said.
"No," Gwendal replied, staring down at Yuuri with an expression the Maou couldn't decipher. "I spoke out of turn last night, Heika. It was wrong of me to lose my temper. You have my apology."
Yuuri heard a strange ringing in his ears, and his field of vision narrowed even as he saw golden spots that seemed to dance in the air. He felt himself sway forward. He didn't quite faint, but the air around him warped and he felt his balance slipping. Before his knees buckled, he heard the rustle of paper as the parchment hit the stone floor, scattering, and Gwendal's strong arms caught him, holding him up while he caught his breath.
"You're exhausted, Heika." Gwendal shifted slightly, and before Yuuri could object, his feet were off the ground and he was being carried away from his office, held tightly to Gwendal's chest.
"What were you thinking," the tall demon whispered softly.
"I just…wanted to show you that I'm not…the worst Maou ever." Yuuri still felt strange and breathing was becoming more difficult. He was tired, suddenly wiped out, and he no longer had the strength to fight off his tears.
"Shhh," Gwendal said, his lips very close to Yuuri's ear, making the boy shiver. He didn't dare look the man in the eye, certain he'd see the condemnation and disappointment he feared in his general's expression.
"You are a good Maou, Yuuri-heika. The best Maou. Forgive my insensitive comments. I…I…am not good with words."
Yuuri did dare to look up then, and to his surprise, Gwendal's cheeks were lightly pink with blush, and his blue eyes were fixed on the corridor in front of them. What did Gwendal have to be embarrassed about?
"But what you said was right, Gwendal. I am thoughtless, and I'm reckless, and I don't pay attention to my work, and I never listen when I should, and I just act on impulse—"
"Heika!" Gwendal exclaimed, his voice still soft, though fierce. "You have the rare ability to see people's hearts. You have always seen the good in others, even when they cannot see it themselves, and it is your belief in people—in their innate worth that sometimes makes them exhibit those qualities. It is a rare gift. Don't, please, upset yourself this way."
"But…what you said—"
"Don't listen to everything I say!" Gwendal grunted as he kicked open a door, and Yuuri recognized his own room.
He turned Gwendal's words over in his mind, too tired to resist when his General set him down on the bed, then knelt in front of him and pulled off his boots. He shrugged out of his jacket after Gwendal made short work of the buttons, and he almost opened his mouth to point out that he could manage the rest himself, but Gwendal silenced him with a look. The older man pulled back the covers, waited for Yuuri to wriggle beneath them, then tucked him in. His eyes felt scratched and itchy. He started to rub, them, but Gwendal stilled his hands, pulling them gently until Yuuri rested them at his sides. He kept them closed and listened as Gwendal moved around the room. He heard the sound of water splashing into the basin. A few moments later, he felt a cool, damp cloth press against his tired, swollen eyes.
"Better?" Gwendal asked.
Yuuri nodded, unable to speak past the lump that had formed in his throat. How mortifying to be in this position. He felt weak as a kitten, and the fact that it was Gwendal who had to see him like this made him feel ashamed. Hot tears welled up again and leaked out from beneath his lashes. He felt the brush of warm fingers against his face.
"Please, Heika, don't cry." Gwendal's voice was rough, though not with anger. Yuuri couldn't name the sound.
"I'm sorry. You must think I'm so weak." Yuuri pressed his own hands over his eyes, thankful he couldn't see his general.
"I think you've overworked yourself, Heika. And I think you should sleep. Rest now."
"Why…" Yuuri choked, cleared his throat and tried again. "Why are you being nice to me? You don't even like me."
Gwendal didn't reply immediately, and Yuuri found that the lure of his warm bed was too much to resist. He fell asleep before his General could answer.
--O.o.O—
Although it required very little of his own Majutsu to operate them, the ever-steaming hot baths in Blood Pledge Castle had always been one of Gwendal's secret triumphs. Several years after Yuuri-heika had arrived in Shin Makoku, he had worked with a builder to renovate the small, cramped bathing areas, linking them all together in a series of tubs, separated by ornate screens, that resembled small ponds as opposed to simple, stone bathing pits. It gave the area an open, relaxed feeling—and the steam rising to the vaulted ceilings also worked in concert with the heavy screens to provide privacy. It was rare, in fact, for anyone using the baths to run into anyone else—unless such an assignation was intentional. And, by tacit agreement, everyone had staked out their own, special areas that had become somewhat off-limits to anyone else, unless an invitation was extended.
Sinking into the hot, fresh water, Gwendal slowly relaxed, sliding down the side of the tub until he was submerged. Bathing was his favorite personal pleasure, one that he hadn't shared since he was a young mazoku. He could soak for hours, happily, though his schedule didn't allow for that. But, on days like this one—when his life was slowly upending into some new crisis—he did allow himself a few long, stolen moments in the water. It would have been better, he thought, had he been a fish. Fish, after all, weren't very social, and they couldn't talk so they never shoved their gigantic feet (which they also didn't have) so far in their mouths that they were going to shit boot leather for a month. No, fish had a good life—a simple life. And he supposed it really did defy logic that he had been so successful, over so many years, as a diplomat, considering that he could often get his point across in State-sanctioned negotiations, but he almost never said the right thing when it came to the people he cared about most. Out of everyone, only Gunter had ever taken the time to try and hear the meaning behind the words he spoke. And, now, even Gunter wasn't speaking to him. It had been several hours since he'd delivered Yuuri-heika to his room, but the image of the king—broken and exhausted floated through his mind every time he closed his eyes, and the words the young ruler spoke…You don't even like me. How could he think that…when it was as far from the truth as the east was from the west?
Allowing his head to break the water, Gwendal rested his head against the edge of the tub, supporting his neck on a rolled towel and let his mind drift, concentrating only on the sensation of hot water against his skin.
"How are you feeling now, Heika?"
Gwendal's eyes snapped open. Through the screen he heard Yozak's deep voice, and the sounds of rustling clothes.
"I…I am a little tired, still, but I'm ok." The Maou's voice still sounded weak.
"I still think you should go straight back to bed after your bath." Conrad's voice.
"No," Yuuri-heika said quietly. "I just need to clean up, then I have to get back to work. I accomplished a lot yesterday, but I want to clean my desk off."
"Why this sudden urge to become a paper-pusher, Heika?" Yozak was laughing. Gwendal could imagine his smirk. "It can't be that you have come to enjoy it!"
"It's…It's just something I have to do. I've been relying on Lord von Voltaire far too much, and Gunter, and you guys, too. I really should make the effort to do my own work."
"Not at the expense of everything else in your life, Yuuri. Everything in balance, after all."
The sounds of splashing as bodies hit the water.
"Lord von Voltaire?" Yozak added, questioning. "I would have thought that after last night you and his Excellency were even closer than before, and you were already on a first name basis."
Gwendal had to strain to hear Yuuri's whisper. "No. I was on a first name basis with him. He won't…he won't use my name. Out of respect, I feel I should give him the distance he wants."
"He doesn't hate you, Heika." Conrad said, reasonably. "He is perfectly comfortable with you using his name. Gwendal is merely a bit more…formal than you may be used to, that's all."
"I guess. Still, I don't like to push myself where I'm not wanted."
"Bocchan…? Didn't you see his face last night?"
"Yeah, I saw it," Yuuri said softly. The sounds of water pouring now—someone was washing his hair, or someone else's. "I saw a lot of it—more than you, Yozak."
"Hasn't he…spoken to you yet?" Conrad asked.
"Yeah. Not that I did anything other than make an even bigger ass of myself. I nearly passed out on him and he was forced to carry me back to my room. I swear, I'm never at my best around him."
"Forced? That seems a little harsh, Yuuri."
"No, Conrad. It's not. He was kind enough not to let me fall, and he put me to bed, but it's not like he wanted to be near me. I guess either you or Gunter yelled at him or something this morning when he got home?"
"There was no yelling, I assure you, Heika."
"It's Yuuri, Nazukeoya. You of all people should know that."
"Come here, Bocchan. I'll scrub your back."
Gwendal held his breath and considered his options. If he stayed a moment longer he would be forced to endure listening to a conversation that was never meant for his ears. However, if he tried to get out of the bath and leave, the sound of water sluicing off him would give him away—and the trio on the other side of the screen would be alerted to his presence. Considering Yuuri-heika's already dismal opinion of him, that option seemed to be the worse. No. No matter what was said, he was going to have to stay. He bit back a sigh, and stilled so that he made no sound.
"Yuuri…what do you intend to do, then? You must face Gwendal some time, and now that he has been named as your official lover, it is expected that you two will spend time together."
The silence was more deafening than an explosion.
"But…that was just to save his reputation, Conrad" Yuuri-heika squeaked. The boy cleared his throat. "I mean, no one is going to be watching us, right? Believe me, Gwendal isn't about to seek out my company."
"I don't know, Bocchan. His Excellency is very peculiar when it comes to customs. He has always adhered to tradition, and I don't think he'd be pleased to set the rumor-mill in motion together. You acknowledged him, in front of a pretty large group of people. If you two don't spend time together, people will suspect something, and most likely pity him—and that would probably bother him most of all. Besides, don't you like his Excellency? I always thought you did."
"Of course I like him!" the Maou said sharply. "I mean, I've always admired him." The boy's voice softened and Gwendal felt his heart begin to pound. "It's just…he doesn't like me very much, and I don't want to make him do something he doesn't want to do."
"I don't understand why you think that, Yuuri," Conrad said. "Gwendal has a high opinion of you." Gwendal nodded. That was true.
"No, he doesn't." Gwendal frowned. That wasn't true at all.
"Well, even so…you're still going to have to spend some time with him, Kiddo. The entire kingdom already thinks you two are going at it like sandbears in the rainy season."
"What!" Yuuri-heika's voice echoed off the chamber ceiling. "Gwendal and I are not having sex…and we're not going to have sex…NOT EVER."
Gwendal didn't know why, since it was the answer he expected from the Maou, but his heart still seemed to stop. He had been rejected, before he'd even had the chance to…to what, exactly? He had never really, seriously entertained thoughts of seducing the Maou. First, he was engaged to his own brother, and second, there was the age difference, and third…he was so cute and adorable that even if Gwendal had been inclined to try and get closer to the king, he knew he would only end up tongue-tied and stupid. Yuuri-heika was young, vivacious and so very full of life and hope…there was no way he'd ever be interested in someone as predictable and pedantic as Gwendal knew himself to be. Still, before the evening of disaster, the king had once called him sexy…and maybe that counted for a little something?
"Whatever you say, heika," Yozak replied, his mirth still evident in his voice.
"No one is saying you and Gwendal have to become lovers right away, Yuuri." Conrad's reasonable tone, for some reason, set Gwendal's teeth on edge. He really didn't need his younger brother speaking on his behalf.
"Still, it would be a slight to his honor if you were to ignore him now. There are, after all, several traditional duties that a lover performs for the Maou that a fiancé cannot. The only person who could ever usurp his place completely would be a husband or wife—unless you dismiss him, of course."
Gwendal held his breath. He hadn't thought that far ahead yet. With everything that had happened, he hadn't given consideration to the things Conrad was talking about. But, his little brother was right. He was meant to perform several tasks for the King now, several intimate tasks—regardless of lovemaking, which was, clearly, not on the cards.
"What…what are you talking about, exactly?" Yuuri-heika's voice was wary, suspicious.
"Well, let's just say this is the last bath we'll be taking together for a while, Kiddo," Yozak said, merrily. "And you have to eat breakfast with him, too."
"I eat breakfast with him now…all of you."
"Not anymore," Yozak sang out. "Now you have a private breakfast with His Excellency."
"He's going to hate that." Yuuri-heika sounded so sad that Gwendal was tempted to get out of his bath, thump the spy on the head, and apologize all over himself.
"No, he won't. And perhaps you could turn it into a planning meeting or something, until you're comfortable," Conrad offered. "Also, as his lover, you have entrée into his chambers whenever you want, and you'll probably want to share a bed at least twice a week. That is enough to keep the talk down, and not so much that bets will start as to whether or not you will give Wolfram his congé."
"I told you already, Gwendal and I aren't having sex."
"I said share a bed, Yuuri. I meant sleeping, nothing more. No one has to know that you aren't lovers."
"I always thought people tried to hide the fact that they ARE having sex, not hide the fact that they AREN'T!"
"One last thing, Bocchan." Gwendal had, in his imagination, gone well past thumping and into fantasies of outright trouncing his best secret agent. "You two will have to make the traditional pilgrimage to the temple at Doone."
"What is that?"
"The temple is the place of worship for the fertility goddess, Shay. No one really worships her anymore, but it is a romantic tradition that all lovers, especially those of the nobility, make a journey to the temple and leave an offering for the Goddess in order that their union should be blessed. It takes about four days on horseback, and it doesn't have to be done right away, though, it would look best if it were done soon—schedule permitting." Conrad said.
"So…what you're saying is…I have to wake up every morning, have breakfast with a demon who doesn't really like me—all by ourselves. Twice a week, we have to sleep in the same bed…and unless I want to reek, we have to bathe together, and, to top it all off, we have to take a mini-vacation to a romantic destination. Is that about it?"
"That covers it, kiddo." Yozak was snorting he was laughing so hard.
"You realize, of course, that Wolfram is going to have a nuclear meltdown."
"I don't know what that means, Yuuri, but I don't think it's good." Conrad said. "And you're right, he's not going to be pleased so you might want to get this worked out with Gwendal before Wolfram arrives back home."
"Has anyone asked Gwendal if he's ok with this?"
I'm just fine with it, the angry General wanted to shout. But he didn't.
"He already knows what is expected of him, heika." Conrad replied. "Don't look so worried, he's not going to eat you."
"Yeah, at least not until you ask him…really nicely!"
"Yozak!" Yuuri cried out.
Gwendal heard the sounds of splashing and he could only hope that the Maou was drowning the orange-haired troublemaker. Still, they were loud enough that Gwendal was able to slip out of the bath without attracting attention to himself. He padded on silent feet until he could make his escape—clad only in a towel wrapped around his waist. Returning to his own chambers, he didn't even bother to dress, but stood, staring out the window and considered his options. There was no way out of this—at least not on his part. The king didn't want him, and that much was clear. He was surprised by how much the knowledge actually hurt. There was no reason for it to, of course, but then, he had never even allowed himself the option of considering such a situation before. Still, Yozak had been right about one thing—Gwendal was a demon very much bound by tradition. It was how he had been raised and how he had lived his entire life. He was unable to break the tie that now bound him to the young ruler, but he wouldn't object if the Maou decided, ultimately, to turn away from him. He could retire, quietly, from public life and return to simply being the head for the von Voltaire family. There was, perhaps, a measure of honor left in that. He was not able, however, to initiate such an action. If he were to do so, then he would be seen as both ungrateful and disrespectful. No matter how difficult the next days might be, therefore, he would simply find a way to cope. Gwendal glanced at his bed. In all the years he'd lived at Blood Pledge Castle, he'd never shared that bed with anyone. He could imagine, however, what it might be like to wake with Yuuri-heika next to him. The ease with which his mind supplied just such a picture was shocking. Had he had these thoughts without even being aware of them? It seemed unlikely, and yet, the prospect of spending time with the Maou was not onerous. No, his hands were tied and there was nothing he could do but wait.
Sitting down in the chair near the window, Gwendal reached for his knitting basket. He took up his needles and began to knit, letting the repetitive motion of his hands, the familiar feeling of yarn running through his fingers, ease his troubled thoughts. Gwendal had never found himself in this position before. He was a man of action, a military commander, and his word was law in almost every aspect of his life. But, now, he could do nothing more than sit quietly, patiently, and wait for the Maou to make the decision that would ultimately map out the path for his future.
He didn't like it. He didn't like it one little bit.
Ok, and there's chapter two. I've decided that in order to do this story justice, it's going to take a while to get Yuuri and Gwendal on the same page. I could rush the scenes along but I don't think Gwendal can move any faster than he already is. I was sure I'd be able to talk about Gwendal's past in this chapter, but, it's not time for that yet. So, I've decided to let the scenes unfold in their own time and at their own pace. Consequently, I hope I've not frustrated too many of you. However, that being said, I broke this chapter up, and I already know that chapter three will introduce Wolfram again, and before that, Gwendal and Yuuri will reach a preliminary understanding. Poor Gwendal…he really got the ass end of the deal today. I'll try and update by the end of the week on this one…I don't want to leave my favorite General languishing too long. Right, so, I'm home from work and I need a nap. After that, I'll answer all the mail in my box. Thanks for reading, and feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you think so far…And, for those who were concerned…no, I don't think Yuuri is likely to let Gwendal twist in the wind for too long. Thanks again and I'll be seeing you!