Chapter Four: Beautiful Wolfram
Wolfram. Her unexpected, yet cherished, third son. So much like her, and yet, so different as well. But then he was young, and with burdens she had never borne.
She had turned to the younger of the von Bielefeldt family for comfort, after Dan Hiri had left. After she'd realized he was gone for good.
After the Temple had informed her that he had dissolved their marriage bonds. True, he gave her no blame for it, but it was difficult just the same, in a society where such dissolution almost never happened. That the marriage had been blessed by Shinou stopped few of the whispers, and even less of the sympathetic looks and comments about the unworthiness of her second husband.
The younger von Bielefeldt had been one of the few who didn't patronize her. One of the few who offered comfort without scorn or sympathy. He soothed her. She was weary of birthing sons who were heirs to their father's titles and had thought, at the time, that there was no risk of that if she had a child by him. And they were never formally married, after all. He understood that it was not an advantageous match for her, which meant her brother would have opposed it, and both of them were more interested in companionship and comfort than in wedlock.
She hadn't truly expected to get pregnant. After all, most Mazoku women had one or two children, but rarely more than that. Still, when she noticed the signs of pregnancy, she wasn't all that upset.
Wolfram's father would have wed her, but they both agreed it was better, easier, to leave the arrangement as it was. Besides, if they wed, the child would automatically be claimed by his father's family. As it was, he had the potential to become the Spitzweg heir, as Stoffel was unmarried and her two elder sons were already lords of their own family lines.
Wolfram was born two years after Dan Hiri left. A bright-eyed, quiet, serious child who took after her in looks. From the moment he was born, staring up at her with his brilliant green eyes and blond fuzz, she fell in love.
Conrart was there for his younger brother's birth. When Wolfram was cleaned off, dried and wrapped in his silken swaddling, she passed the tiny child to her second son, and watched the tenderness, the joy, bloom across his face.
Conrart was gentle and careful, as loving as a brother could be. Gwendal came much later and also held his brother, but there was a hesitant awkwardness to him that Conrart lacked. It was no surprise then, that Wolfram bonded to her middle son. He was only six years older than Wolfram, but Conrad was devoted and the child returned his love in full.
And then things changed. Wolfram's father died. His death was both violent and unexpected, a border altercation that none of them would have expected to take the life of such a talented nobleman. The younger von Beilefeldt had been talented in both swords and magic, and shouldn't have fallen.
But he had. Rumors spoke of esoteric stone, enough to poison a powerful mazoku.
In the wake of his death, Valtorana had claimed his brother's child as his heir. Always serious and focused on duty and honor, he had never quite forgiven Celi for never marrying his brother. Following his sibling's death, he'd also developed an intense disdain for half-bloods and humans. Still, Celi had supported his claim on Wolfram, with the condition that should an alternative heir be born or found, Wolfram would be released from his obligations.
It was only as Wolfram had grown older that she'd realized what a mistake that was. Already overshadowed by two elder brothers, Wolfram had developed a burning need to prove himself to the Court, and to his uncle. Worse, he masked his uncertainty and insecurity with a facade of arrogance, superiority, and a quick temper.
The first sign of trouble had been the revelation of Conrart's parentage. From worshipful younger brother, Wolfram had changed almost overnight into a disdainful stranger. His first reaction had been shock, but after that he had distanced himself from Conrart. He'd refused more lessons in sword-play. He no longer embraced his brother, or even touched him. He'd refused to eat at the same table unless it was a mandatory family meal.
By the time her son had reached his majority, he was as outspoken against humans and half-blood mazoku as any zealot.
Celi had tried to change his mind, but he considered her words suspect, since she'd married Conrart's father. Julia, when she took over his education, had tried to foster tolerance in Celi's youngest, but with limited success. The pressures and prejudices of the court were too much, the need to prove himself too strong in the young boy, growing to be a man.
Conrart's stoic acceptance only seemed to fuel Wolfram's disdain for him. So did Conrart's frequent disappearances.
Celi watched her son grow as a swordsman, but never stronger than his brothers, including his despised half-human brother. Watching him develop his fire element Majutsu, only to wing up in Gwendal's shadow, and Stoffel's to some extent. Watched him try his hands at artistic pursuits, without any success or recognition. Watched him sit in on the court, watching a political dance he was deemed too young to join, though his eldest brother and uncle were premier members.
She watched him drift, aimless and without purpose, save listening to his elders. She watched him chafe, struggling to find his place, when there was none prepared for him. Watched him covering his uncertainties about his future with loud brashness and outbursts of temper.
She listened as he was christened 'Little Lord Brat' by other members of the court. She knew he heard the whispers too, no matter how he seemed to brush them off and ignore them. And yet, she was powerless to help him, for the same reasons she'd been unable to help Gwendal in his youth.
She planted flowers for Wolfram as she had for his brothers. Beautiful Wolfram. A description. A wish for her youngest son, that his spirit might grow to match his outer appearance.
She watched him seek Gwendal's approval, with only limited success. She watched him emulate Stoffel and Valtrana, to his detriment.
And then Yuri came. Yuri, who was in actuality a fifth her son's age, but acted with the same level of maturity. A king and yet a commoner. As human as her second son, and more powerful than her first.
Wolfram challenged him right from the first. She saw to that, to see what the boy-king would make of her son's rash behavior. She did not want Wolfram's faults to be encouraged, and yet, she did not want him excluded from the Court. It would only hurt him.
The slap was unexpected, but useful. That her son challenged the young Maou to a duel was far more anticipated, and brought matters to a head.
She watched the young king face Wolfram head on, with honor and with courage, meeting her son on his own terms, then on Wolfram's. She watched him meet Wolfram's temper with logic, with a cool-headed strength that she hadn't expected in a boy so young, so new to the land.
When Wolfram released his fire in anger, she feared.
And then...she saw the Maou do what she had been unable to do for years.
She saw him take Wolfram to task for his attitude. For his carelessness and his poor sport. For his pride that had outstripped his common sense.
She saw Wolfram's eyes when a half-human Maou summoned the power to defeat him, to call up a storm of water and magic that left them all dumbfounded and gasping. When the boy lectured him for his poor conduct, enforcing his demand for reformation with all the raw power at his disposal.
It was a beginning. Yuri's words had pricked her son's sense of honor. Honor and pride kept him at Yuri's side, a term of the new betrothal bond they shared. And it was honor and pride, and admiration that wove a slow change in the demeanor of her youngest son.
For all his complaints and constant mockery, his loud statements that Yuri was a 'wimp', he stayed close to the young Maou. And in Yuri's presence, he found a purpose.
For all their bickering, it was obvious that Yuri needed Wolfram every bit as much as he depended on Conrart.
Wolfram could guide Yuri through the difficulties of Court in a way that the older members had neither time nor understanding to manage. And he was young enough to share Yuri's curiosity and impetuousness, but old enough and well enough trained to temper the young king's impulses somewhat, and to protect him, when the presence of an older Mazoku might have been stifling.
Her son gave Yuri a companion near enough to his own age and maturity to keep Yuri steady, to make him feel less alone, even if they did argue.
And Yuri...Yuri gave her son perspective. A perspective he was sorely lacking.
It was Yuri who coaxed her son into riding to the aid of a village. A village of commoners. True, Wolfram had wanted to aid his brothers anyway, but it was Yuri who coaxed him into following. And it was Yuri that Wolfram fought to protect from Adelbert. Just as it was Yuri who protected her son, not through power, but through decisive action.
It was Yuri, whose loyalty to the Flybone Tribe saved him, and jolted Wolfram into revisiting his prejudices.
And it was Wolfram who was the most frantic, in Yuri's disappearance during his coronation. He gave Gunter a run for his money, and the elder statesman drove Celi's eldest son to distraction.
Water was anathema to Fire users, and Wolfram knew it. Or at least he should have. The fact that he still voluntarily boarded a boat to remain at the side of the young king was nothing short of astounding. That he defended him from pirates, and yet surrendered when asked (she heard about that later from Yozak), even more so. And the sight of him in the guise of a human soldier, when he normally wouldn't have even considered such garb…
Celi watched the changes in her youngest son, and approved.
She watched over the intervening months as Yuri wrought one change after the other.
She watched as her son braved esoteric stone, dressed like a peasant, and even cuddled a Bearbee. She watched as he endured long mountain climbs and eating fresh, campfire fish, just to see the dragons that Yuri was interested in. He even adopted a dragon hatchling.
Her son was changing, changed by the bond to Yuri that grew from one of honor to one of affection, and then to a real, honest love. A true bond, though Yuri seemed determined to deny it at times. But then, Yuri was young, and she understood from Conrart that his world had different rules.
She watched in amusement as Wolfram took up the painting he had neglected for years, considering it a pursuit unworthy of a warrior.
He learned to treat servants with the respect his fiance showed them.
He learned about the villagers, sharing their lives and their concerns as Yuri dragged him into an adventure involving a missing Demon Stone.
She couldn't help smiling at the description Conrart relayed, regarding Wolfram's insight. It was true that village folk had small homes and smaller baths than the pools he was used to. But it was also true that they worked alongside their families, sharing labor and love. She had never been able to teach him that, the value of the lives of the common folk who made up their kingdom.
In the garden, Wolfram's flowers began to thrive, growing larger and brighter than they had ever done before.
And then, Wolfram did something she never would have imagined.
He adopted a human child. Greta. Yuri's former assassin, turned into his ward at his own insistence, in an effort to help heal the child who had been desperate enough to try and kill him.
It was Yuri who took the child in, who hugged her and bathed her and defended her. But it was Wolfram, when Yuri was unavailable, who helped her pick her clothes, who discovered her favorite foods and read her stories. It was Wolfram who introduced the child to Court, and made sure she was comfortable with the people there, and protected her from the scorn she might otherwise have faced.
It was Wolfram who introduced Greta to the kitchen staff, who helped her work her way past Gwendal's tough exterior. Who cuddled her on nights when she was lonely.
By the end of the first month of her stay, it was clear that while Yuri would forever be first in Greta's heart, Wolfram was dear to her. And through them, she touched the hearts of others, quickly becoming a favorite of Celi's eldest son.
Through Greta, Yuri taught Wolfram a whole different kind of love. And between protecting his king and caring for his new daughter, a whole new side of Wolfram began to emerge.
Celi watched the rash and ill-tempered boy be replaced by a steady young man. A man who took his responsibilities seriously. A man with a warm and compassionate heart, supportive to his siblings, careful of his love and his child. A man who no longer spouted off prejudices with every breath. Wolfram might not have liked many humans, but it was easy to see that he had come to respect them. Especially his elder brother, though he was shy about speaking of it.
Which made it all the worse when Conrart disappeared.
She heard about that much later. How her son who had, only short months ago, openly disdained his brother, wept for him. Gwendal told her, in one of his rare moments of openness, how he had given Wolfram Conrart's cuff link. How he had listened to his brother's screams of grief and anguish, unable to turn back because it would have destroyed his own tenuous control.
She wasn't surprised when she heard that Wolfram had disappeared with Giesela and the others. She understood why Gwendal would have tried to keep him home, keep him safe, but she could have told her eldest it was futile.
Wolfram had given his loyalty and his heart to the young Maou, and like the fire that was his element, his determination to be with his betrothed was unquenchable, burning bright and steady amidst the turmoil.
In the arena of Big Cimarron, where she watched her middle son break his heart, she heard her youngest son call him brother for the first time in decades. It was perhaps the only thing good in that encounter.
When Gwendal wavered and broke under the strain of declaring Conrart a traitor, it was Wolfram who supported his brother. Wolfram's faith, as unshakable as the Maou's.
In the midst of their grief and uncertainty, it was the one bright spot.
While the flowers of her eldest sons withered, Wolfram's shone, supported by his faith in his fiancee, his love for his daughter and his brothers, and the young man who had claimed his heart.
When Conrart was restored to them, Wolfram welcomed him with open arms. It was awkward at first, but Celi watched as her youngest son's warmth healed his brothers, and was comforted.
She didn't doubt it, but watching Wolfram badger Conrart into eating properly, practicing swords with him and holding spirited conversations over Greta's care, it was easy to see how much her youngest son had grown.
Yuri's strength kept Wolfram's fire tamed. His light nurtured Wolfram's spirit, encouraging him to flourish into the wonderful young man Celi had always known he could be.
A young man who protected children, human and mazoku alike.
She heard tales later, after their trip to Earth, of how Wolfram had charmed Yuri's family. Conrart even showed her pictures, of Wolfram dressed in the clothes of Earth. Clothes that, only a year ago, she could never have imagined him wearing.
But then, Wolfram had done a lot of things she'd never dared to dream he would do. And all because of Yuri.
It broke her heart to know that her youngest son's heart was the third key. It was even worse to know that he could not share his brother's knowledge of his fate. She couldn't tell him.
If she thought her heart broken at the realization that her youngest son was a key, she thought it shattered in the aftermath of the failed mission to Shinou's temple. Holding her son's lifeless body in her arms, she'd thought she would break.
But Anissina and Giesela had refused to let Wolfram slip away. And Yuri had refused to give up on saving him.
In the end, the king had traded himself for her son's life.
In the end, Yuri had saved her youngest son, just as he had saved her elder two.
Yuri's absence in the aftermath showed how far her youngest had come, when he was nominated to take the Maou's place on the throne. That Wolfram didn't assume it was his right, that he actually sought counsel on whether or not he could be the kind of ruler Yuri would have wanted, was only further proof of how far the young king had influenced him.
As was his joy when Yuri returned.
Celi smiled, listening to the mix of youthful voices fading down the corridor as she trailed her fingers over the sparkling golden blooms she'd created for her youngest son. Always lovely, they'd truly blossomed this year, becoming the most vibrant flowers in her garden. The petals, previously tightly gathered together, had opened wide, spreading out towards the sun in cheerful abandon.
She only had to look at the flowers to see the truth. Wolfram was no longer overshadowed by his brothers. Now the flowers bearing his name stood fully as tall as the blue blossoms of Conrart's flowers, or the deep trumpets of Gwendal's.
She had only to look at her son to see that he had found his place, found a genuine pride to replace the mask of arrogance he had once worn.
Standing by Yuri's side, Wolfram shone more beautifully than ever.
Author's Note: This one was hard to write. Wolfram is such a stubborn little...ah well. I hope this satisfies.