11. "I'll Protect You"

(A/N: This story is continued from 1. "Marriage Proposal" and 8. "The Radiance of the Sun.")

"I'm going to forget them."

"You won't forget them. Let's just go over it again." Gisela sighed and picked up the crumpled piece of paper that Wolfram had been hunched over for the past hour. "Start from the beginning."

The young noble and today, groom, sighed loudly and tried to brush some errant strands of hair from his forehead. Dorcas swatted his hand away and pulled a soft bristle brush through the loose pieces. "Your Excellence," he said hastily. "Don't fuss now. It won't stay if you keep touching it..."

"Bah, what do you know anyway? I can't believe I'm having my hair done by a bald man!"

He got a gentle bonk on the head with the hairbrush for that. "I assure you Dorcas is quite capable," Gisela interjected, waving the piece of paper back and forth. "Just let him take care of it. Practice your vows now. Honestly, who forgets to write them until the day of the wedding..."

"Fine," Wolfram snarled, crossing his arms impatiently. He couldn't abide by all this primping. He still didn't understand why he couldn't just show up in his dress uniform. He felt he looked quite dashing in it, and he almost feared to think of what matrimonial concoction the others had cooked up for him. His only consolation was the knowledge that Yuuri was probably getting the same treatment from his mother and older brothers. The thought made him smirk, until the very appealing notion of his fiance decked out in full royal gear entered his mind. Maybe it won't be so bad after all, he thought appreciatively, basking for a moment in the image.

"Vooows," Gisela reminded him sternly. Wolfram jerked out of his reverie and gave her a guilty look.

"Yes, sir," he muttered, taking a deep breath. "Okay, here goes. Stop me if I mess it up." He straightened in his chair and adopted a serious expression. "Yuuri," he began. "As your loyal subject, guardian, friend, and husband, I do swear to love and cherish you, to honor you completely, and to protect you as long as I live, no matter what may come. I... ah..."

"I hereby..." Gisela prompted.

"I hereby give myself to you, and wheresoever you will go, I shall go too. Even in your darkest moments, you will always find me there. This I promise, until death do us part." He paused, then added a decisive "Wimp."

Gisela and Dorcas sighed in unison. "Lovely, Wolfram," she declared, handing the paper back to him. "You'll do fine. Although that last bit wasn't in the script." Her eyes twinkled and she reached out to touch his hand. "Are you nervous?"

"Hmph!" he huffed, turning his head quickly to the side and drawing a moan from Dorcas. "Why should I be nervous?" Sadly, he was betrayed by a little twitch in his nose. He saw the incredulous look on Gisela's face and sighed softly. "Maybe a little. This is all happening so fast. I know that's what I wanted, but..."

"It's okay. Everyone gets nervous on their wedding day," she assured him. "Here, Dorcas and I got you something. I think it might cheer you up." Wolfram watched her curiously as she dug around in her bag to produce a small wrapped box. He opened it carefully, trying not to tilt his head too much and disturb Dorcas's ministrations. Inside, he found a curious bundle of blue silk and a small glass bottle with a rubber stopper.

"Dear Wolfram," he read, unfolding the accompanying note. "Congratulations. We figured you wouldn't be prepared since you put everything off until the last minute, so here are some necessities for the wedding night. Enjoy!" A groan escaped his lips as he unfolded the roll of silk. "A blindfold? And peach-scented 'massage oil'!" He gritted his teeth and one blonde eyebrow twitched, making him for a moment a perfect mirror of his oldest brother.

Gisela laughed nervously. "We thought it might help to take your mind off things! One less thing to worry about, right?"

"Well, it's not helping, thank you very much!" His cheeks had flushed bright pink, which he could see reflected in the vanity across from him. "Where did you guys get this stuff, anyway?"

"The oil is a home recipe I found in one of Günter's books. I hear it's quite - ah, effective. As for the blindfold, that was Dorcas's idea..."

Wolfram shot the man a scathing look in the mirror. Dorcas grinned apologetically, holding a brush in one hand and a set of pins in the other. The blonde sighed and closed his eyes. As if he wasn't distracted enough...

More time passed than he must have realized, because he was startled out of yet another daydream by Dorcas's exclamation that his hair was finished. He opened his eyes and blinked once at the almost unfamiliar face that looked back at him. His hair had been straightened and smoothed, so it was almost as supple as Günter's. His bangs were arranged neatly around his eyes, and the longer pieces in back had been pulled into a small, low ponytail that was tied with a black velvet ribbon. "Wow," he breathed. "I look almost... regal."

"I told you he was qualified," Gisela said proudly. Dorcas bowed his head and gathered up his tools before shuffling out of the room. Wolfram thanked him as he went, wondering why he was in such a hurry to leave suddenly. When he stood up and brushed himself off, he saw why.

Gisela had opened the wardrobe and produced a large clothing bag. She handed it to Wolfram, and even he struggled with the weight of it. "Your outfit," she said with a smile. "We had it made specially for the occasion. You can thank Lady Cheri for the design."

Wolfram resisted the urge to groan. "Ah, I see," he said half-heartedly. "I suppose I'll get changed then." The moment of truth. Please, gods, just let it not be a dress.

He shuffled behind a dressing screen and slipped out of his clothes, while Gisela kept her back politely to him. He opened up the clothing bag and removed the garment on top, a tailored suit made of pure white linen with brilliant blue silk trim along the shoulders and cuffs. He breathed a sign of relief at the surprisingly tasteful outfit, and he found that it fit him perfectly. A row of ebony buttons marched up his chest as he buttoned up the jacket, and next in the bag he found a pair of pure black boots shined to a brilliant sheen. Wolfram found himself flushed with excitement. He was never allowed to wear so much black - he felt strangely different in these new colors.

Looking down, he found two things left in the clothing bag - first was a bulky white fur cloak, which he ran his fingers over appreciatively before slinging it over his back. Two more black buttons were fixed at the shoulders of the jacket, allowing him to secure the heavy garment in place. It pooled at his feet in a bothersome train, and he wondered absently at how he would keep from stepping on it. Finally he bent down to pick up the last piece, a delicate silver tiara that fit perfectly over his forehead, arcing in a graceful vee to a single tear-shaped sapphire. He smiled. Mother... thank you.

When he stepped out from behind the screen, Gisela turned and gasped. "Lord Wolfram!" she exclaimed, her green eyes lighting up. "You look... wonderful! Hmm... older somehow, and I think those shoes add some height." She nodded approvingly. "What do you think?"

Wolfram turned and looked himself over in the full-length mirror. Even he was surprised at what he saw there. Usually, when he looked at his reflection he saw a diminutive, scrappy child with uncontrollable hair who stood at least a foot shorter than most everyone around him. Honestly, he'd always felt a little insecure about it - he knew he was adorable, maybe even beautiful, in a boyish way that attracted a lot of attention, but he never really felt like the noble-blooded Mazoku that he was. Especially not when walking next to Gwendel or even his half-breed brother. Somehow, he felt that he paled beside them.

But what he saw today was completely different, almost as though he were somebody else. He seemed to stand taller, straighter, with more bearing - his smoothed hair shined in the late morning sun streaming in the dressing room window behind him. He didn't look like a child who had just come in from a day of sparring with wooden swords in the courtyard. He looked like what he was about to become - royalty. Not a third-son prince, not the child of some provincial noble, but the beneficiary of a nation, and the husband of a king.

"This is going to be a big day," he said to himself, though it was Gisela who responded.

She straightened his cloak around his shoulders and smoothed down the sides of his jacket. "You'll be fine," she soothed. "You love him, right? Just think of it as something you have to go through, and the reward is that you get to be with him forever."

"Yeah," he echoed faintly. "Forever."


The ceremony was set to take place at the temple of the Original King, and when Wolfram rode up in his white and gilded carriage, he wasn't surprised to see a matching black carriage sitting outside the palace gate. A set of royal guards flanked the doors, and he figured Yuuri was already inside. Just like him to show up early and make me look bad, he thought, though he knew that was the tradition.

"As your loyal husband, guardian, and... wait... that's not right..." he muttered to himself as he was helped out of the carriage and escorted through the gate by members of his personal guard.

"Are you ready, milord?" One of them whispered as they faced the huge double doors of the palace.

"No," Wolfram responded honestly. "But open the doors anyway."

The fair-headed soldier nodded obediently, and with the help of another guard pulled the massive set of doors open. It was quite dark inside, and it took Wolfram's eyes a few moments to adjust to the lower light when he stepped over the threshold. There was a moment of silence and hazy blindness that seemed to stretch out forever, and when he finally blinked away the shadows he was greeted with a most spectacular sight.

Somehow, the entire interior chamber of the temple was packed with people, most of whom Wolfram didn't recognize or was only barely acquainted with. They shuffled to their feet and turned to look at him, but he didn't step forward. He just looked around in stunned silence. Weddings in Shin Makoku were never this big. Usually it was only a priest or priestess, the couple, and a handful of close relatives to act as witnesses and supporters. This must be Yuuri's doing, he thought numbly. I never knew he had so many friends. Or did he just invite the whole kingdom?

After a moment, Wolfram remembered where he was and squared his shoulders. He was about to step forward when he felt a small hand slip into his own. He looked down into a pair of shining, inquisitive brown eyes, and warmth flooded his heart.

"Greta," he said softly, his voice choked with emotion. "What are you doing here?"

"Yuuri wanted me to throw flowers around," she whispered. "But I thought you looked like you needed me more. Do you know what you're supposed to do?"

Wolfram looked down at his daughter with open, tender eyes. He nodded once, silently, and gave her hand a small squeeze. She smiled and squeezed back, then marched off down the aisle to toss blue and white flower petals out of a little basket. He followed her one step after the other, oblivious to the awed murmurs of the audience on either side, staying intently focused on the trail of flowers in front of him. He felt in his heart that if he just followed that trail, it would lead him home.

His feet stopped when the flower petals did. He hesitated - the safety line had ended, and it was up to him now. "Papa," Greta whispered from off to his side. "Look up!"

He hadn't realized it, but all this time he hadn't looked to the end of the long aisle. His head was bowed at an almost reverent angle, and it was with great effort that he took a deep breath and lifted his chin to face his future.

Much later, he would recount the following moments to friends and family with far greater clarity than he could comprehend it in the immediate moment. His emerald eyes opened wide and filled with light as they tried to take in the scene before him. A low altar had been set up, and it was covered with pale white and blue roses. It was flanked on either side by Ulrike and Murata, who were almost unrecognizable in some kind of ceremonial gear that Wolfram had never seen before. Behind them, stars glittered in the constant flow of water, lighting the area with a dreamlike glow that eliminated the need for candles. On the right was Conrad, standing erect in his dress uniform but bearing a smile of indescribable tenderness. On the left was the tall and statuesque form of Gwendel, who nodded almost imperceptibly when Wolfram met his eyes.

And in the center of all of it was Yuuri.

Everything else he could dissect, parcel into bite-sized thoughts and feelings that his numbed mind could comprehend. His brothers. The priestess. The flowers. Greta. The low, steady sound of flowing water. But he was completely defeated by the sight of his soon-to-be-husband on that day, in that place, dressed like a king and surrounded by glittering lights.

His mouth opened and closed once.

Yuuri looked back at him, his wide, honest eyes betraying his own overflow of emotion as the two of them stood frozen in that moment. His hair, dark as night, was arranged artfully around his face, and a brilliant golden circlet crowned his head. He stood two shallow stairs up from Wolfram, and a long blue silk cloak fringed with white fur tumbled down his back to pool on the steps. His clothing itself was so black it was practically a void, save for a row of polished ivory buttons and a gilded blue sash that cut across his chest.

Only dimly aware of what he was doing, Wolfram ascended the small steps to meet his fiancé face to face. There was another pause, this one filled with hushed murmurs and sighs from the crowd, as they gazed into each other's eyes. He wandered, lost, for what felt like ages, but in reality only a handful of moments had passed.

Murata had just cleared his throat pointedly, and was opening his mouth to start the ceremony, when something inside Wolfram snapped. All of his confusion and anxiety fell away, and in one swift motion he stepped forward and drew Yuuri to him, lowering his head to claim a breath-stealing kiss from his fiancé. Yuuri murmured in surprise but returned the kiss nonetheless, to the delight of the audience and the chagrin of his soon-to-be brothers-in-law.

"Wolfram!" Murata hissed, leaning forward. "You're supposed to wait for that until after the ceremony!"

The blonde boy dutifully ignored him, pulling Yuuri close and turning his head to deepen the kiss. The sage smacked his forehead and looked desperately at Ulrike, who blushed girlishly and shrugged.

"What about the rings?" he hissed, turning back to the two boys who were getting embarrassingly close to mating right there on the temple floor. "The blessings? The sermon? The vows!"

At that, Wolfram broke away for breath, panting and slightly flushed. "Oh yeah," he said, his eyes never leaving Yuuri's. "I spent all morning writing them."

Yuuri's nose wrinkled in annoyance. "You waited until today to write them? Honestly, Wolf..."

"Quiet. I'm trying to remember."

"You don't say them yet," Murata said woefully, but no one was listening.

"Yuuri," Wolfram started, his brow furrowed in concentration. "As your loyal subject, guardian, and husband... er, I mean, as your loyal husband, I do promise to... wait. That's not it either..."

He struggled for a moment longer, the expectant looks of the audience, his family, and Yuuri all bearing down on him. The vows he'd written so carefully evaporated from his memory, and in the end he was left with the only part of it that mattered.

"I promise... I'll always protect you. No matter what happens, Yuuri, I'll protect you."

Yuuri looked back at him with wide eyes for a moment, then smiled warmly. "I know," he said, taking Wolfram's hand in his own. "Now, let's get married, shall we?"

And they did.