Chapter 11
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"Wolfram?"
Poke. Poke. Poke.
"Oi, Wolfram…?"
Poke.
Wolfram groaned at the sound of his name and the incessant poking of his shoulder by a finger belonging to his ex-fiancé.
"Yuuri," he grumped back, "do you realize what poking me is going to do?"
"Heh, heh… I guess," Yuuri said as he rested a hand behind his head, grinning sheepishly "I know how you're going to react."
The blond humphed into his pillow. "And considering the scandal that would erupt should anyone know that we've spent the whole night together…? We're not engaged anymore. If my Uncle Waltorana could see this, he'd throw a fit. Do you realize that?"
"I don't care" was said with a pout.
"You'll have regrets." He frowned and rolled over to face Yuuri. But the double black simply shook his head "no" boyishly. Wolfram sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"
"Were you asking for a suggestion?" Yuuri joked, picking up a pillow for a pillow fight. There was a challenge in the crooked smile that he knew Wolfram would never ignore. The white goose down pillow wilted slightly in his hands.
Emerald eyes were suddenly awake—wide awake—and Wolfram's fingers reached for his pillow. Yes, Yuuri was right on all counts.
The laugh that escaped him was meant to intimidate the double black. Oddly, this time, it didn't seem to work. Yuuri was grinning back in anticipation.
Wolfram grunted slightly as he swung the pillow at Yuuri. He was on his knees now, the nightshirt riding up again past his thigh. But, he didn't care because he managed to smack the pillow against the double black's head. He laughed devilishly until a pillow came out of nowhere and slapped his left cheek—sending Wolfram backwards into the mattress. The whole bed shook.
"Does this mean we're engaged again?" Yuuri teased, the bedsprings squeaking as he, while on his knees, repositioned himself for another hard swing now that his prey was down flat.
"Hell, no!" Wolfram challenged. "You have to use your hand, wimp! A pillow there doesn't count."
On the other side of the bedroom door, Gwendal stood—frozen in time with his fist raised to knock on the door. He'd heard everything that had gone on inside. Every single word. Sadly, so had the maid who had entered with a breakfast tray that Gwendal had ordered the night before because he had some early morning paperwork to do.
It was the polite cough behind him that made the administrator's head swivel to see Doria standing behind him with a breakfast tray full of berries, cream, toast, and coffee along with a blushing face and a "What a story I've got to tell!" look of victory in her eyes.
Damn it all to Hell!
Taking the tray, he muttered a spiteful "Thank you" and dismissed her with a nod—much to the woman's glee.
He could hear a giggle of delight as Doria's rushed footsteps died away in the direction of the royal kitchen.
This day would only get worse. He was sure of it.
Gwendal took a large breath in and let it out.
He banged on the door.
"Wolfram?" he bellowed and all sounds on the other side of the door stopped abruptly.
"Do you think he heard us?"
"Shhhh…wimp!"
"…Not a wimp…"
Silence.
A tightly strained voice said, "Yes, Gwendal?" He tried to sound innocent but, even in his childhood days, it didn't work.
"I'm…!" he began angrily and then decided that the situation called for a cooler head. He chewed his lip a little and glared down at his breakfast tray. "I'm going to take breakfast in the rose garden this morning," he explained. "So, meet me in my office. You have desk duties today. In fact, you will continue to do so until I say otherwise."
"Eh? Desk duty?!" The bedroom door was flung open to reveal an angry, chest heaving, blond hair disheveled, young man with his white nightshirt riding up his right thigh.
Gwendal, seeing his brother like that, tightened his mouth's muscles to the point that it looked like he'd been sucking a lemon. "No arguments!" he muffled.
"But, Gwendal…!" Narrowed emeralds were squinting up into the taller man's eyes. Wolfram's hands were balled into fists.
Gwendal went to the door, opened it, and stepped into the castle hallway while threatening "I can make it a year's assignment."
With frustration, Wolfram let his head fall back. "He can be such a…!" Oh, damn you! Wolfram limped forward and slammed the door childishly, but not before he saw Sangria walking past with a load of laundry in her arms. She winked at him and then snickered as she went on.
Leaning against the door, he uttered an "Eh?" While his mind pieced the last three seconds back together.
Had everyone gone mad this morning? Still against the door with his arms folded, Wolfram's eyebrows pushed together until he felt the breeze below the waistline. "Oh, hell!" He grabbed the hem of his nightshirt and yanked it—pulling all the way down; doubled over now.
"Problem?" Yuuri asked from Wolfram's bedroom doorway. Curious and slightly concerned.
Wolfram's face held an embarrassed smile. "N-No…I'm perfectly fine."
Gwendal stormed down the hallway filled with servants, soldiers, and the unfortunate sight of Günter—trying his best to locate the young monarch who should still be in bed but was discovered not to be.
"Oh, Gwendal! Gwendal! Have you seen His Majesty?" the lilac haired man called in his melodramatic way. He fretted openly with tears coming to him.
An inward groan. Do I really need this? he thought with a grimace.
"You have seen him?" the tall man looked hopeful, hands clasped as though in prayer.
"I believe he's… with Wolfram this morning." Gwendal's eyes burned a hole in the stone floor briefly.
Seeing it, Günter decided it was best not to get too close to the administrator—who was still carrying a breakfast tray and seemed grumpy due to a lack of nourishment. Maybe, he even had a calcium deficiency. "Um…which direction, then?" the adviser asked hopefully.
Gwendal motioned with his thumb the way he'd been. He just omitted the part about his brother and Yuuri being alone together in his quarters.
With a happy wave of the hand, Günter skipped off in search of his beloved Maou. Gwendal, in turn, simply passed the uneaten tray of food to the nearest servant, got a confused look (which was ignored by the tall Mazoku), and off he went for his office. But, before going too far, his path was blocked by a green haired woman with hands resting on her hips.
"Gissela?" The mild surprise clearly showing.
"My office is this way," she said evenly in the no nonsense tone that had made her famous.
"Yes, I know where your office is." His eyes turned to the floor as he walked behind her, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Is there something we need to talk about?"
She gave him a side glance, turning the corner. "Most definitely."
When they got to the door, she opened it with a key and gestured for Gwendal to enter. "Is it about Wolfram?" he asked as the door closed with a rusted squeak. Across the hall, two guards heard the question, but not the answer. The men, both light brown haired Mazoku who had crushes on Sangria and Doria, would use this tidbit of information to get the girls' attentions—and, maybe, more!
Gissela and Gwendal were standing just inside the doorway. The healer turned her chin up and smirked knowingly at Gwendal. "This has nothing to do with your brother. It's you that I'm interested in."
"Me?" He felt confused. "I feel fine."
That got a suspicious "Hmmm?" from her. "I saw you return an untouched tray of food. Either you don't feel well…" she scanned his body with her keen eyes, "or something's bothering you."
Gwendal flipped his long hair over his shoulder. "It's nothing…" he grumbled and then felt a pang of guilt when he saw the hurt in her eyes. He'd offended her when all she did was ask if he was okay. Caring for people… That was what a healer did, right? But it was more than a job. It was her nature. And, considering all that Gissela had done for him and his family in the past—and the obligations kept mounting—he could have, at the very least, been more sensitive to her feelings. Certainly, all of his training in the courtly lifestyle had taught him the value of manners and how to use them—in this case, sincerely.
Facing her, Gwendal put an apologetic hand on Gissela's narrow shoulder. "Thank you for your concern…"
The door swung open with a hard, swift motion.
Knocked off balance, Gwendal found himself falling forward onto Gissela. Being unprepared for the sudden impact with her breasts, Gwendal's mind went blank for the fraction of a second before he used his earth magic. He wielded his element flawlessly. He sensed exactly where the stone floor was, scooped up the healer in his arms, and then Gwendal turned over so that he would fall flat on his back. He created a barrier to help cushion the fall, too. Yes, all of his Mazoku magic training had come into play flawlessly.
What he hadn't thought about, though, was exactly where Gissela would fall.
"Gwendal? Someone said you were in here and I wanted…" Anissina rattled on. And just as quickly, she stopped.
Her eyes widened.
Gwendal was lying on his back with Gissela on top of him—her legs draped over the sides of his beefy hips.
Shakily, Gissela turned her face to the door and blushed deeply. Of all the people in Shin Makoku, it just had to be Anissina staring down at her in shock. Gissela's "I've been caught" sounding laugh didn't make the situation much better, either.
"Well," Anissina muttered under her breath, "I see that you're…busy." Her red eyebrows pushed together in a "v." "So, we'll discuss things later." And, with that, the door snapped shut.
Worried, Gissela looked down to see gorgeous, indigo eyes. Then, Gwendal smiled—which turned into a grin, a more than happy grin that seemed somewhat alien considering how stoic Gwendal was most of the time.
"She went away!" He almost couldn't believe it. He put his arms around her shoulders, bringing her closer. "I didn't have to escape Anissina! I'm not trapped in one of her confounded experiments, either!" He chuckled with relief. "…All thanks to you, of course…"
"Yes!" Gissela said, laughing, too, with her head resting on Gwendal's chest.
"Have you ever considered marriage?" Gwendal joked lightly, giving himself permission to relax. Laughing this hard was the very thing he needed right now. For a few seconds, at least, he had forgotten all of his troubles.
"Hmmm…" The green haired healer placed a finger to her own lips as she pondered it. Then, she leaned in closer, practically nose to nose with Gwendal. His eyes changed from playful to uncertain as her lips neared his.
"Sorry, but, Anissina isn't my type."
Was that a purr?
Green hair brushed against his face with a voice whispering "And, if I'm going to be blamed for something…"
Wha-?
Gwendal felt soft, warm lips on his. His jaw. His throat. His chest.
When did she unbutton my shirt?
A nip. The first love bite. Another—harder, this time. He arched up against the floor as the green glow of what seemed to be healing magic did something else to him entirely.
Gissela placed her finger into her mouth to wet it and then traced delicious, silky patterns across Gwendal's skin. He tried to say something, to move, but found out that he was unable to shift at all with the exception of his right hand at the wrist.
Her eyes burned into him, skilled hands roughly removing the shirt.
She really is… a demon, huh?
A bite into his shoulder while hands explored.
A harsh breath.
He cast a barrier to lock the door…and gave in to fingernails raking across his skin.
Wolfgang sat on the stairs leading to the rose garden out back of the castle. He'd taken a thick piece of white bread. Then he smeared butter and jam on it before making his escape. He didn't want to join the others for breakfast. If possible, he had other things to think about—specifically, The Gaki. Wolfram was recovering. And, sadly, that recovery was putting a dent into his plans on getting back home.
Wolfgang took a bite and chewed unhappily. No matter how he looked at it, Yuu was becoming more and more attached to Wolfram. His king would probably make an ass out of himself with the blond Mazoku version of himself—which was stupid. Wolfram was too ill tempered, spoiled, selfish, and inflexible. Plus, it was difficult to see a parallel version of himself so enamored with King Yuuri, a teen who was too innocent, immature, and oblivious. Add to the fact that Yuuri was either politely ignoring the attachment or was totally incapable of comprehending it. Wolfgang guessed the former. So, what if Wolfram chose to give up on his king and pick Yuu instead?
Wolfgang tried to shake that idea out of his head. There was no way that everyone here would let "Blondie Wolf," as he liked to think of him, go traipsing off to another world with a man who was a carbon copy of his dearest love.
That couldn't happen, right?
"And then," the pink shrub roses rustled with the sounds of maids tiptoeing past the other side, "once they finished 'dancing' in each other's arms in the empty ballroom, Sir Weller and our maou found them on the floor!"
"Seriously?"
"Who was on top?"
"Only you would ask that question."
Giggles followed.
"Well, that's what Sir Weller told Yozak last night over cards on the veranda."
"Yummy Yozak!"
"Oh, I'm changing my bet now to King Yuu and Lord von Bielefeld!" said an excited voice.
"No, wait! It gets better," said another. "Go on, Lasagna! Tell her!"
"Right!" she bubbled. "Then, someone that we know…which is not me, by the way…had to deliver a tray of food to Lord von Voltaire's quarters."
"Yes!"
"Yes, go on!"
Listening, Wolfgang took a cautious bite and chewed slowly. He leaned forward.
"Well," the voice whispered in a lower tone, "apparently Lord von Bielefeld was there."
Silence.
"Oh, we know all of that," one sighed back impatiently. "They're rooming together."
"Then, did you know that Lord von Bielefeld was in one of the bedrooms…alone…with Yuuri Heika?"
Scandalized "That can't be's" and "No way's!" erupted.
"Yes!"
"And, apparently, certain intimate conversations could be heard through the door."
"Truly?"
"Who heard?"
"Lord von Voltaire!"
Wolfgang almost choked on his food at the news while girlish squeals of delight drowned out the Bad Omen birds in the background.
What, the hell, is Blondie Wolf playing at now?! Wolfgang thought, tossing the left over bread crust into the nearest shrub for the ants to devour. He was playing all high and mighty with me earlier—morally superior crap coming from him. I should have known better! We're the same after all. But, Yuu's not like…like us… He has a heart. And he'll hurt badly if this gossip reaches him.
The tall soldier stood up and, immediately, brown eyes locked with black. "Yuu…"
There was a slightly unsettled, quirked smile. "G'morning, Wolfgang. I missed you at breakfast."
Missed…?
His foppish, casual posture emerged at the word "missed." It felt good to know that someone was thinking of him. His family certainly didn't. "Appreciated," he drawled, tilting his head to one side.
"Oh, dear," Yuu said with suspicion growing at the behavior. It was too staged, too abrupt. "What are you up to this time? I can see it in your brown eyes. Something's there…" Yuu pretended to study the face before him.
The smile faded and, wearily, Wolfgang practically flopped down on the steps again. Curious, Yuu sat next to him, worried about his friend.
"Something?" Yuu asked with a boyish nudge of the shoulder. That tactic usually worked. "Something you want to talk about?"
Despite his best efforts, Wolfgang showed the hesitation he was feeling. He wanted to bring it all out into the open, but that could do more harm than good. So, instead of discussing his number one worry, he chose the number three on his list.
"I've been thinking of The Gaki and what we'll do if Wolfram can't recover fast enough."
"Well," Yuu said, resting his bent elbow on his knee and placing his cheek in his palm, "his leg seemed good enough to go dancing." He noted Wolfgang's thin lipped response and fought off a grin at that. "If we keep him on his horse, he'll have more mobility and…"
"You're growing fond of him, aren't you?" the soldier interrupted harshly. It made Yuu's face flicker into amusement. He'd never seen Wolfgang like that. In fact, even at this moment, there seemed to be worry lines on his youthful face. He certainly was Gwendal von Voltaire's brother after all.
"Do you think that Wolfram's taking me away from you?" He grinned widely now and nudged the shoulder again with his own. Before getting a reply to that, he added, "I can have more than one friend in my life, after all."
"As long as he stays a friend…"
A scratch of the head and fake contemplation followed, striking the same pose as The Thinker that he'd once seen in an art book. "But, Wolfgang, you've had many friends over the years. Remember the twins?"
Wolfgang's jaw fell. He couldn't believe that Yuu would bring that up now. "Are you saying I have loose morals?"
"Well…?" Was there a nice way to break such news?
"That's not…! I mean…! Look, Yuu…I uh…!"
Onyx eyes took him in with an edge of seriousness. "Worried?" he asked quietly.
Wolfgang turned his face away. "I never said that."
"You didn't have to."
The trip was sudden, but necessary. From attending the afternoon's briefing, Anissina knew where The Gacki had been spotted that day. Thankfully, she was going to be heading in the opposite direction. But it was a cold comfort.
Ordinarily, Anissina would have told Gwendal where she was going. However, as soon as the meeting broke up, Gwendal excused himself to do more paperwork. Then, he gave Yuuri a grumpy glare—stating he'd be free from all paperwork for the rest of the day if he wanted to watch over Wolfram. Walking out the door, too, Anissina followed the administrator as he pretended to head for his office. The red haired inventor tracked her childhood friend a little ways, noted that Gwendal walk past his own door, and saw for herself the barely disguised cocky expression that appeared on his face as he made down the hall for Gissela's instead.
Ugh…men… She shrugged mentally, telling herself not to be concerned about it because romantic entanglements never lasted long.
Anissina stopped at a fork in the road and withdrew a map from her "Holds-Everything-Neatly-Kun" that just so happed to be shaped like a purple star fruit. It rolled around a lot in one of her saddle bags and, briefly, she decided that maybe it wasn't the best shape she could have picked for her invention. Later, she planned on eating a simple lunch that she packed in her "Keeps-Cold-Things-Cold-Kun" which held the remarkable resemblance to a bento box shaped like a bearbee's head.
Anissina chose the left fork, urging her horse forward. There was no point in glancing back at the shrinking image of Blood Pledge Castle.
The long, narrow road stretched ahead.
She could do this. She really could—alone.
Pulling her brown hood a little more to hide her face from the sun, the inventor thought They're only in the human lands. I hope I brought enough equipment with me to do the job and take samples. And, if worse comes to worse, let's hope the antidote works. I'll be needing it.
For once, dinner was a quiet, peaceful affair. Anissina was absent, again, but no one seemed to notice—all assumed that she was in the lab working on some new project to help out with the current crisis.
Wolfram felt tired. From the very start, he could feel the eyes of his friends and family on him. It was almost as though they were waiting for him to collapse into his soup bowl or worse. The blond picked up a spoon and his eyes darted to his curly haired daughter. She smiled back nervously.
I know they're worried about me, however…
Green eyes sought Gissela. Surely, she wouldn't be like that, too. To his relief, she wasn't. Though the ex-prince did notice that Gissela and Gwendal were sitting next to each other with an unusual aura between them. A thought struck. Maybe, he was wrong after all. Were they both concerned about him and discussing it in front of him in little whispers? He stared. The couple blinked back at him and Gissela quickly ordered another goblet of wine from a servant.
Odd…
Wolfram decided to ignore it in favor of quizzing Gwendal about it later on. After all, he was fine and would continue to make his leg stronger.
Wolfram continued to take small, almost measured, spoonfuls.
Maybe, he thought, the looks were coming from the fact that Yuuri had asked that we sit next to each other. He had agreed only after Yuuri had pulled out a chair for him. It would have been rude to refuse. However, they were no longer engaged. And that broken relationship had to be acknowledged. Forget Günter, Wolfram decided. He would have a talk with Yuuri about "appearances" and "symbolism" later on.
While the sausage and potato soup was good, the fleeting glances weren't. And he'd had enough.
"I'm sorry," Wolfram said, mostly in Greta's direction, "but I'm just not that hungry tonight." The wine was getting to him, too. He'd felt it and the fuzzy feelings were disquieting after all of the medications he'd been forced to take. Tomorrow, he promised himself, he would eat a little more and take a walk to build up his strength.
"Feeling okay?" Greta asked. She was genuinely worried now. The young princess placed down her soup spoon as she craned her neck up to see him better.
"I'm fine," he answered with a kiss on top of her curly head, "and going to bed right now is sounding good." Wolfram stood up and then pushed the chair forward to the table. With enough focus, he knew he could hide the limp. Then, he stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. "Can I read a story to you tomorrow night?"
"Please!" she answered happily. The pleasant smile that she got in return was reassuring, but her eyes followed him as he exited.
"Everyone," Yuuri said to the table, eyes on the closed door, "I'm feeling kind of tired, too. Please enjoy your meals and I'll see you tomorrow."
No one was fooled. Yuuri's face showed concern and it was obvious where he was going.
Wolfgang smirked into his soup, happy at the turn of events. And Yuu, seeing him, couldn't hide his amusement in spite of the spark of sadness that he felt from seeing the royal couple, possibly, getting together.
"Do you like it?" Greta asked, her next spoonful dripping over a little.
Onyx eyes cut to Wolfgang and then back to her. "Yes, I'm enjoying myself quite a bit."
Wolfram raked his fingers through his hair as he limped along. He was getting better at hiding it, but there were times when he simply had to let his body have its way. This was one of those times.
"Wolf!"
The blond straightened up, muttering "Damn" at the thought of Yuuri coming up from behind because he probably saw the limping again.
He turned his head slightly. "Yuuri Heika?"
The double black took Wolfram's hand and said silkily, "It's Yuuri."
Being careful not to walk too quickly, Yuuri turned a corner only to hear Wolfram say, "But Gwendal's is in that direction."
"Yes, I get that. However, you're sleeping with me tonight."
The blond leaned in like a conspirator. He whispered harshly, "We can't do that! We're not engaged and people will talk."
Yuuri stopped in the hallway. He glanced at Wolfram. "My place or your place… Pick one."
Wolfram bit his lip, green eyes questioning whether or not to trust his judgment. Yuuri kicked himself for that. After all, he was the one who had muddied the waters in their relationship.
"Bath," the blond said. "I really want one."
An hour later, Yuuri and Wolfram were back in the royal bedchambers in matching ivory bathrobes. Wolfram rubbed a soft, white towel over his head. Yuuri's towel was resting on his shoulders as he rummaged for his pajamas in the closet. One of the laundry maids had misplaced his favorite blue pair. So, now, he was on a search for them.
"I'm glad you're back," he said over his shoulder.
Wolfram took his brush from the adjoining bathroom and was about to work on his damp hair when he made the comment, "I appreciate spending the night, but…"
Yuuri stopped what he was doing. "But…what?"
The blond sat on the bed cross legged, the robe fell open at the neck a little and water droplets slid down against his skin. "But, we're not engaged anymore…" The water droplets tickled. He dabbed at them with his towel.
With a deepening frown, Yuuri stood before him, arms folded against his chest. "You know that I don't care about that."
"In more ways than one," Wolfram grumbled, brushing his hair solemnly.
Onyx eyes took the sight in. It pained him being unable to say or do whatever it was that would make Wolfram smile again. A smile—a real smile with the kind of brilliance that melted hearts. "I wish I knew what to do." It was followed by a frustrated tugging of his hair.
Wolfram came back to himself. He was being selfish again and that was no good for either Yuuri or the country. His own reputation had very few bright spots. The least he could do would be to sacrifice what little was left so that his king could be happy. Putting the right spin on things, he might come off as nothing more than the king's play toy. If need be, he'd do it.
The blond circled around the bed and pulled the covers back on Yuuri's side. "This way," he ordered with a motion of the wide, silver brush with white bristles.
"Eh?"
Wolfram sat down on Yuuri's side and kicked the covers away with his feet to make room in front of him. "Just sit here," Wolfram said, patting the place before him.
He's…serious?
Green eyes darkened.
Yes, he's serious. "O-Okay," Yuuri agreed reluctantly, moving over to the spot and sitting down with his legs stiffly stretched out before him. The bed dipped from behind and he glanced back to see Wolfram on his knees. Yuuri could feel his heartbeat quickening. But, if this, whatever it was, would make Wolfram happy, he'd go along with it.
He felt the brush. It had soft bristles that raked into his hair with even strokes. Yuuri's scalp felt a whisper of the bristles and there was the soothing sound of the strokes as they met his ears.
Wolfram parted the raven hair down the center and worked the strands back, feathering them. Then, he sat back down behind Yuuri, cross legged again.
The soft bristles ghosted a touch.
"That feels…nice…" There was a slight, throaty chuckle. Yuuri tilted his head back as the bristles caressed him again and again.
Wolfram smiled at it.
Bangs, down the back, the nape of his neck, the sides. Yuuri found himself relaxing, eyes drifting shut, body slumping over, and an arm coming in from behind to wrap around his chest. Wolfram held him still.
The brush strokes continued, slow and soothing now.
Wolfram's breath touched his cheek. Onyx eyes opened slightly but then closed again; a contented smile on his face.
Wolfram laid Yuuri down flat on the bed. Now on his stomach, the double black felt boneless as the brush returned—soothing him, stroking him.
This was "trust," Wolfram realized. And he'd never betray it.
"Do you want me to get your pajamas?" the blond asked kindly in his ear.
A hand reached out for Wolfram's wrist and pulled him into the bed. The ex-prince landed with a cute yelp. The brush flew off somewhere.
The covers were drawn up around them. "No, we'll sleep like this," the double black yawned.
"But, Yuuri…we're kind of…naked here."
A sleepy chuckle. "Only under our bathrobes."
And, with that, the candle by the bedside went out.
