Hello Readers!
I've been away for YEARS! OMG! I am completely, and utterly sorry! My gosh, time has gotten away from me, what with college and jobs and working, but now that I've graduated everything should be settling, and I should be able to get moving on this story once again.
I sincerely apologize.
So, by way of apology, here is a shorty chapter to get a taste for.
Chapter 10
The soldier was quiet as he walked through the darkened halls, the sound of his feet on the marble the only sound as he made his way through the castle, his charge tucked safely within his grasp as he made his way toward the familiar sleeping quarters of the noble.
Wolfram lay silent against the larger man's chest, his emerald eyes were dull and tired, a signs of crying and sorrow carving homes for themselves on to his youthful face. He lay limp against the soldier, his slender hands weakly grasping the material of the man's clothing, almost as though he was a child, too tired and frightened to move against his father's chest, too scared that the monsters would come from under the bed, yet too sleepy to fight the oncoming battle.
Alphonse, his bright eyes, gently and quietly shushed him, as though predicting the thoughts that raced within the sleep deprived mind, his arms holding a fraction tighter, his skin burning a little warmer against clothes that separated the two of them.
Wolfram groaned slightly, as though to push off the man, his body too weak for his liking. The older man resisted the need to chuckle, his blue eyes taking back some of their light at the tenaciousness the blonde showed in regards to his independence. "Wolfram," said the man, his deep voice warm and comforting like a well loved book and blanket, "just let me take care of you, Love." He whispered.
Wolfram all but collapsed against him, his body turning to an emotional mess of tears and sobs, those green eyes that held so much arrogance and strength filled with salt water, the mouth envied by many with words that could bring forth poison and healing, blubbered words.
Alphonse held him all the tighter, his blue eyes closing against a pain that began to echo in his chest, as he ran his hand through the bright blonde hair. The silence stretched, broken only by the sounds of sobs and tears.
Gwendal sat in his rooms, his light eyes darkened with thoughts, as he leant back against the large chair, his dark hair thrown over his shoulder in disarray, the military jacket that was always immaculate, messily unbuttoned.
A knock sounded at his door, timid, but unhurried. He sighed deeply, listening as the door opened unbidden. "Uncle?" came the quiet voice of the princess, a slight tremor echoing through the near empty room. Gwendal lifted his head, looking at his adopted niece, shaking his head tiredly as he stood to his feet, trying to pull himself back into a semblance of normalcy, if only for this young girl.
"Yes, Princess?" he queried in response, shrugging his jacket more securely on to his shoulders, his fingers moving to the cuffs, only to have his hands batted away from the buttons.
Greta gently swatted his hands from the buttons, her small fingers moving over the brass easily and quickly as she slipped the small knobs into the holes, her browns eyes concentrating on the task.
"Is everything alright?" asked the girl, smoothing the sleeves, before moving on to the buttons at the front of the jacket.
"As well as it can be, Princess?" whispered the man, watching as her fingers moved over the buttons carefully, his eyes waiting for her to miss one.
"For as long as I have known you, I have never known you to lie to me, Uncle." Said the girl.
Gwendal sighed tiredly, allowing his head to bow, resting his chin on the girl's head. Greta leant against his body, her smaller form curling against his sturdy one, her diminutive hands gripping the military jacket that she had previously worked to smooth.
"War is here, Greta. A new war is here, and I do not believe we are strong enough to make it through. Not so soon, not now when we are in turmoil." The older man confessed as he rocked the girl gently.
Greta nodded, breathing deeply, taking comfort in the familiar scent of his clothes, and his rough hands on the fabric of her dressing gown. A moment later, the older man stepped back, straightening his clothes as he looked at the princess, the tiredness in his eyes fading into something more manageable, the weariness of his stance gone, his back straightening almost painfully.
Greta beamed up at him, patting his shoulder before stepping away from him, straightening her own clothes, before looking up at him expectantly.
"Now, Princess, it is far too late for you to be walking the halls, especially in the attire you have decided to don this evening." Gwendal said, his grey eyes taking in the state of her night wear, before shaking his head, grabbing his own dressing robe and settling the thick material on to her shoulders, smoothing the material down her arms, watching as she comically was drowned in the expensive fabric.
Greta smiled up at him, nodding her head before heading toward the door. Gwendal opened the large door for her, stepping out before her, and offering the young girl his arm. Greta took his arm graciously, smiling as he walked her the short distance to her chambers. She looked up at the large man, smiling up at him, before turning her cheek, pointing to it, an impish smile creasing her mouth.
Gwendal shook his head, a small smile working its way on to his face as he leant down to place a kiss on to her cheek, before shooing her into the safety of her bedroom. Greta smiled at him one more time, waving as the door shut behind her.
Wolfram lay silently on his bed, his head cushioned by Alphonse's chest, as they stared up at the ceiling. Alphonse lay close to the blonde, gently stroking his hair, working the tangles that had accumulated throughout the day from the mess of blonde strands.
A whimper sounded from the nursery, signaling the youngest Bielefeld's wakefulness, before a cry burst from the adjoining bedroom, bathing the chambers in a loud cacophony of sound. Wolfram groaned, sitting up from his spot on Alphonse's chest, before quickly standing to gather his son. Alphonse sat up, his bright blue eyes tired and weary as he watched the prince-ling disappear into the nursery.
Wolfram reappeared a moment later, Tiede wrapped in a blanket as Wolfram gently shushed him. The child laid his dark head against the blonde's chest, his small nose rubbing against the fabric as he rooted for sustenance, whimpering pitifully
The soldier shifted on the bed, grabbing the pillows that littered the outer edges of the mattress, and settling them against the headboard, arranging them as the young blonde seated himself against the plush softness.
Wolfram offered him a weak smile, as he settled on the bed, gently brushing his son's wild hair from his face as he unbuttoned his shirt with practiced ease, his movement suggesting routine as the little one latched on to his nipple. Tiede nursed lazily, his green eyes, half closed in sleep as he stared up at Wolfram, the blonde smiling indulgent at the content grunts the dark eyed boy made.
Alphonse settled closer to the two of them, wrapping his arm securely around the petite frame of the fire wielder, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
Wolfram yawned, snuggling closer to the larger man, burrowing his head into the broad chest, his eyes glued to his son, as he gradually was lulled into sleep. "I think I should pull him off, but the last time I did, he woke up and screamed for an hour." The younger man said, gently rubbing the baby's back, his voice a gentle hum in the quiet early morning.
Alphonse chuckled, pressing his nose into the blonde mass of hair before his eyes. "If I were him, I am almost certain I would protest as well." The soldier whispered, watching as the blonde colored prettily, before he was shoved violently in the side.
"Don't be lewd." Wolfram said, fondly.
The baby slowly relinquished his hold, his grip going slack as he relaxed deeply into sleep.
The silence, unending in the early morning, quiet and calm, acting as balm to the fragile psyches.