Oh damn. Damn this all to eternity and back.
Wolfram was uncaringly sprawled across the neck of the horse, an arm securely around his waist. Hedrid, owner of said arm, nervously stood on the ground as he wondered what would be the best way to get Wolfram down without hurting him further.
They were in the palace's stables, and the ride through the capital had sadly failed to knock the blond soldier unconscious. Half an hour or so before reaching the castle walls Wolfram had tried to throw himself off his horse as he retched the contents of his stomach. When Hedrid's arms tightly clutching the reins around him had prevented him from falling, Wolfram began dry heaving, the sheer pressure of anti-demon magic forcing even the air in his lungs and the emptiness in his stomach out.
He couldn't breathe without choking, throat closed but for a tiny gap left for oxygen to enter his body. His eyes had become unfocused, crossing painfully even under the cover of his blindfold, and he began shivering uncontrollably, Hedrid finally having to force him to bite on a piece of wood to prevent him from biting his tongue off.
In a hopeless attempt to at least lessen the suffering, Hedrid had removed the thick esoteric chain from around Wolfram's neck, tossing it to the assassin riding furthest away from him. He then urged his horse to gallop as it had never galloped before.
The boy sitting in front of him began groaning at first, the pounding of horse hooves against the ground tossing him like a doll. Soon he began screaming, a keening, high-pitched sound as pain completely overwhelmed him. Wolfram had been incapable of thought at that moment. With the exception of his single wish to stay conscious, nothing mattered to him.
But now in the stables, with old wood shielding him from the mild sun, Wolfram felt absolutely mortified with his tremendous show of weakness. He had felt much better when the gates had closed, the slicing pain of esoteric magic having lessened considerably. He was still too tired and too worn to get off the horse himself though. He did, however, have enough energy to berate himself for having gone momentarily mad with agony.
Damn!
Summoning the last vestiges of his strength, Wolfram groaned and swung his body to the left, slipping off the saddle and into Hedrid's surprised yet ready hold.
"Hedrid, you big fool. Do you intend to take off my blindfold, or shall I spend the rest of my life bumping into this Mikael of yours without ever knowing I've just hit the man responsible for all this?"
Wolfram had to force the words out, but he felt many, many times better than he did while they were riding. Hedrid was carrying him like a bride, arms supporting Wolfram's back and encircling his knees. Hedrid released a breath he couldn't remember holding, relieved that Wolfram was, if not very well, at least still healthy enough to insult him. Carefully shifting the boy to lean against his chest, Hedrid used his free hand to untie the sash, the cloth falling to the ground as Wolfram blinked wide green eyes against the sudden onslaught of light. His head was still spinning, eyes feeling uncomfortable as he scanned his surroundings, also observing Hedrid's cautious hold on him.
Comfortable in the embrace, Wolfram took a few moments to breathe deeply, before noticing the absence of a chain around his neck. He could feel all eyes on him, and smirked a little as he flexed and stretched, Hedrid's hands moving quickly, adjusting his grip to allow Wolfram freedom of movement. The blond's smirk grew.
"Hedrid, don't you think I'm a little too old for you for this sort of relationship?"
Though he tried his best, and he really did, what with not wanting to be embarrassed in front of his men and the fact that Wolfram was probably dozens of years older than him, Hedrid still started blushing furiously, hastily putting Wolfram on his feet. He left a supporting hand on the blond's shoulder, but he prayed everyone would think he was just trying to keep the captive in line rather than being afraid that Wolfram would fall and hurt himself.
Wolfram tested his balance and found that with each passing moment since their arrival in the castle, he was feeling better and better, the effects of esoteric magic fading until it was just a dulled hum, a permanent minor headache.
But still, I'm pretty sure I'll be right back to screaming and vomiting the moment I step outside the castle walls. The thickness of the stone is probably the only thing that stands between me and, Wolfram winced in distaste at the thought, fainting.
"Come along Hedrid, no doubt your king is anxiously waiting for us. There is no other state for a person to be in when expecting a visit from me"
How about mind-boggling fear? thought Hedrid, but he just sighed and started towards the entrance.
Unseen by the party as they swiftly, silently went their separate ways, Hedrid and Wolfram into the castle and the rest back out of the walls , was a tall boy looking on interestedly with a smile gracing his face.
Must hurry. Can't be late the first time I meet my future lover, thought Mikael as he rushed through another, smaller entrance towards the throne room, stifling his laughter as he remembered what Hedrid had been put through. He ran through small chambers and half-remembered hallways, long legs carrying him much faster than the sedate pace Hedrid had set to prevent Wolfram from injuring himself on an overdose of ego. As he ran, he tried to tame the dark curls that fluttered against his face, for the first time in his life feeling nervous and not entirely sure of himself.
Just now in the stables was the first time he had seen Wolfram anywhere other than in the privacy of his mind, and was therefore when he realised how much more beautiful Wolfram was than anything he could have imagined, so much more intelligent and sharp than he could possibly be given credit for.
In short Mikael, who had lived a life knowing that he was the best-looking and most intelligent person in any room, has found a person who blew him out of the water, and was having a minor anxiety attack.
Unsurprisingly though, 19 years of unashamed self-love meant that Mikael wasn't exactly overwhelmed, merely severely impressed. And being intelligent enough to have orchestrated the arrival of Wolfram here, Mikael was fairly certain he wouldn't be so easily manipulated by the blond.
Though it looks like it would be a lot of fun, if Hedrid's anything to judge by.
He reached the throne room, hastily grabbing the thick red cape he kept on one of the throne's many ornate gold knobs to throw on when company visited. Being young, he could rarely be bothered to tramp around the castle in heavy finery, usually preferring to wear hardy riding clothes. The cape was so pompous and overbearing that it pleased visiting dignitaries and noblemen, drawing attention away from his worn pants and scuffed boots.
Once it was neatly clasped around his neck, Mikael checked his reflection, wishing he could appear as perfect as the man walking towards him. Oh well. At least one of us looks like a paragon of beauty. He smiled, pale face crinkling as deep green eyes looked back at him.
Mikael had impossibly dark brown hair, thick with tresses and heavy with colour, tied back from his face, ending several inches past his shoulders. The shorter, more stubborn curls refused the bind of the ribbon though, and escaped to frame a serious, handsome face, the face of a leader and tactician.
There was kindness in the quirk of his lips and depths of his green eyes, although it could easily be seen that Mikael could be as obstinate as an ox. His intelligence was in abundance, and he knew it, face set in a haughty smirk when in the presence of people he didn't much like.
It was a combination of looks, intelligence and sheer strength of will that has allowed Mikael to keep Balera an autonomy since the death of his parents when he was 12.
Despite Larger Cimaron's insistent attempts to force him into handing over his throne, and the more recent front of Shin Makoku gobbling up countries and spitting out allies, Mikael had still managed to be the sole ruler of his country without dependence on any other land.
After much soul-searching when he was 12, Mikael realised he'd sooner be damned than hand over Balera to anyone. He couldn't guarantee the safety and health of his people if anyone but he was ruling, and so decided to keep her independence.
Things haven't changed much in 7 years; only now he wanted company while he kept his country safe and happy. And he just happened to have decided that Wolfram would be perfect for what he wanted.
Especially after all that horrible king of his has done to him, that miserable-
His thoughts were cut off as a shy knock echoed through the throne room, before heavy wooden doors opened and Hedrid and Wolfram entered, Hedrid with eyes averted, Wolfram instantly glaring at him the moment the blond saw Mikael, who was now seated on the throne.
"Your Majesty, I bring you-"
Hedrid was interrupted by an angry blond.
"You?" Wolfram snapped. "You're the king that so desperately wants to meet me? Explain to me, Your Highness, why in the name of all that is right and good in this world did you not just introduce yourself while we were in the stables? Instead, I've had to walk what felt like seventeen miles to get here when I'm not feeling entirely well, the fault of course being entirely yours, and listen to Hedrid sing about how magnificent you are. I am not amused."
Wolfram flicked his hair back and crossed his arms in front of his chest, still glaring steadily at the young king.
Actually the entire walk had taken less than 15 minutes, and Hedrid had said nothing more than good luck. Wolfram had decided to overreact for two reasons:
First, he wanted to gauge how the king would behave in the face of his outburst, and also because he wanted Mikael to reward Hedrid for implied efficiency and patriotism.
Wolfram's legs were still a bit unsteady, and he would have fallen to the ground several times on their way to the throne room were it not for Hedrid's grip on his shoulder. Having met the personification of justice so often over the past few years, Wolfram wanted to make sure Hedrid received something in return for all his help.
He just wished Hedrid would stop glancing at him with a look of utter confusion, and the boy on the throne would stop looking like he was trying very hard not to laugh.
I may be in peasant's clothing, but I'm not the one who looks like a dirty, messy little boy tangled up in curtains.
"Your Majesty, resist your urge to laugh at me or I swear on Bielefelt I will choke you by that pompous cape of yours, before breaking that hideous throne into an infinity of splinters. Explain your behaviour, or I will hurt you."
Wolfram spared a moment to glare at Hedrid, who was wishing his hardest to become small enough to run under the door slit. The taller, mentally older man gulped, eyes darkening with worry.
"And damn it, Hedrid! Stop looking like I'm about to ask you to marry me! You are not a blushing virgin meeting men for the first time, you're introducing a noble to your king! Behave like a man, or leave this room and leave me to it."
Hedrid couldn't have looked more shocked if Wolfram had flicked his nose and said "Bwa... Haha." Frantically he looked at both boys, feeling a deep rush of horror that all his training could leave him feeling so fragile and uncertain in the presence of kids. It was all he could do to remain in position a bit to Wolfram's side, face now staring intently at the stones by his feet.
"Hedrid, I think you should go now before our little friend scars you further. I'll talk to him myself, and well done. Expect to be rewarded, but you and I need to have a talk later. There're some things I'm unhappy about"
Mikael smiled broadly in an effort to contain his laughter, cheek twitching with effort as Hedrid basically ran away from the blond blaze. As the door quietly closed, he stood up, red fabric swirling impressively around his boots.
Wolfram was not impressed.
Mikael took off his cape, standing on the raised platform in a battered white tunic and comfortable grey breeches, riding boots (that were once a gleaming black now reduced to murkiness by a thick layer of dirt) covering his feet. He stood before Wolfram, removed from any royal finery, dressed as well as could be expected of a well-off farmer's son, expression now free of arrogance and amusement.
Wolfram was not moved.
He skipped lightly off the dais, landing a few feet in front of Wolfram. In long, measured steps he walked towards the blond, happily absorbing every detail: his height, the way his hair shone gold, his glare that should've been hot enough to melt iron, his grace even when dressed in a glorified vegetable sack. He stopped within arm's length of Wolfram, laughing insanely in his mind as Wolfram was forced to tilt his head back to face the obviously taller Mikael. Obviously. Taller.
Now Wolfram was annoyed.
He took having to look up to Mikael as a personal show of disrespect, Mikael taking a slight step back as fury unequaled clouded bright green eyes.
"Your Majesty, I suggest you go back to sitting on your throne before you begin your excellent explanation. If I have to spend a moment more having to look upwards to see your eyes, I cannot be held responsible for breaking your legs. I am not in the best of moods, you owe me an explanation, and I will not take this insult to my size happily. Sit now, or I will make certain you can never sit again"
Wolfram growled the last few words, ignoring the exhaustion battering his body. Foolishly he had spent most of his rant trying to conjure fire, all efforts paying off with only a brief, tiny spark. Now he was very tired, and angrier than ever.
Mikael held his hands up in surrender, backing away until he once again reached the platform, before choosing to sit on the dais instead of the throne, legs spread on the floor, lean arms supporting his body.
Having to look down to glare at his enemy calmed Wolfram a bit, though the intensity in his eyes did not lessen.
"Explain why I have been brought here, little human boy. Or must I look for a responsible adult?"
The insults about his age left Mikael utterly unscathed, causing him instead to break into a laugh before hastily stopping, trying to erase the smile in his eyes as he looked at Wolfram.
"Certainly my lord, but what kind of host would I be if I do not offer you a seat? Please, take the throne. I'll stay where I am," he added hastily when he saw Wolfram scowl, "I'm perfectly comfortable here, and you can still look down on me. I'm sure after your seventeen mile trek you are very tired"
The last few words held a teasing note that Wolfram ignored in favour of getting some weight off his now-trembling feet. Without looking at Mikael he got on the platform before unceremoniously sitting on the throne, quietly sighing in relief.
Damn. He looks a perfect king. I know I never looked as good sitting there.
Wolfram could feel the king's gaze on him, and it worried him. Mikael was proving to be much less of a wimp than both Hedrid and Yuuri.
Manipulating him would be harder than Wolfram currently felt capable of, though he'd never tell anyone that.
Thus far, the full force of "Angry Wolfram Will Kill You... With Words" behaviour (as it's been respectfully named by Hedrid's wittier, gutsier men) had failed to make Mikael do anything other than laugh, whereas usually even Gwendal would blink hard.
Wolfram was bothered by this, and therefore wanted to burn Mikael's boots off. Instead he leaned back, crossed his legs and (as disdainfully as he could) returned the green gaze, putting as much heat behind it as he could manage.
"Now tell me what you want from me"
No getting around that, is there? Where's my "Oh Mikael, you are so magnificent!" ?
"Your Excellency, what do you know about me? Don't say nothing, because obviously you're smart enough to have gotten something from my men. Maybe not Hedrid, he's marginally more antisocial than a rock, but surely you heard the mutterings of the rest? I can't... explain to you what I'm doing unless you are honest with me, Lord Bielefelt"
Keeping his face full of righteous anger, Wolfram's mind raced for a perfect reply. If Hedrid's usually quiet yet is so loose-lipped around me, that's something this boy must never know. I've got a bad feeling about this, and silly boy's too smart for his own good.
"I know you're the king of this human country, your name is Mikael something-or-other, and you think much too highly of yourself. Also," Wolfram smirked, "you are in love with me, but since that is the default state of being for everyone who knows me, decide for yourself if that counts as important information. Unlike others though, you have resorted to abducting me for yourself. Not exactly hard to believe, but most definitely unusual.What you want me to do now that I'm here, I don't know"
Expectantly he looked at the brunette, waiting for him to deny everything, or splutter in awkwardness, or just stay quiet and look slightly frightened. He did not expect the fond smile that grew on Mikael's face, nor the slight nod of agreement.
"I was informed, my Lord, that you were extremely brash and painfully honest. I'm very happy to see that it's the truth. You did get everything right, and I am in love with you. You're a lot more insightful than you've been given credit for. You're also a lot more beautiful, and a lot more loveable than I would've thought you'd be if I was to judge from the way your king treats you"
Mikael stopped and looked intently at Wolfram, carefully searching for a reaction in the angel-like face of his love at the mention of the man Mikael loathed.
Wolfram frowned a bit, trying his best to not think about the... oddly flattering observations Mikael had made and that barbed hint about Yuuri, choosing instead to gain information from Mikael as best he could. Always one for snap judgement, Wolfram felt that the boy-king wasn't really an evil genius intent on toppling Shin Makoku and plunging the world into war and disaster; rather, judging by his joyful reaction to everything Wolfram did (even when he was being Angry Wolfram), Mikael was probably an intelligent boy with too much power and not enough company.
He didn't look a stranger to loneliness, and Wolfram was not surprised. Losing his parents at such an early age and assuming the responsibility of a country when by demon standards he would still be toddling in diapers had obviously left Mikael short of people to love.
Damn. I feel sorry for this idiot.
"Why, Your Majesty, do you still address me by my title? As a king, you easily outrank me, and I'm certain you know my name." Wolfram sighed irritatedly before rubbing his temple. "Are you very certain, your Majesty, that you love me? Think carefully about your answer, it will determine what I do to you after this. While I wait for your reply, please show me somewhere to rest, if that is not too much to ask. It has been a long, unplanned journey and if I'm to be in any state fit to receive your answer and explanation, I'm going to sleep. Now."
Mikael got to his feet and went to Wolfram's side, carefully slinging an unresisting arm around his shoulder and helping Wolfram stand, slowly walking him out of the throne room into a large, bright bedroom a few doors down. No maids crossed their path, Hedrid no doubt having told everyone to give the king his privacy. They walked in silence, Wolfram too tired to complain, Mikael too pleased to disturb the peace. Wolfram was gently deposited on a chair, and Mikael started to retreat out of the bedroom. Before he closed the door he turned to face the half-asleep Wolfram.
"I already know what I want to tell you, but I can see you really need rest. If you can be bothered, there's a change of clothes in the trunk next to you and a bathroom through the door by the cupboard. I will send food up for you, my dear lord, and will tell you why I have brought you here when you awake. Until then, sleep well Wolfram"
Drowsy as he was, Wolfram didn't miss the tone of utter fondness and the deliberate, delighted way his name had sounded on the king's tongue. Too tired to contemplate all the meanings of that possibly-emotional moment, Wolfram simply promised himself he'd review what had happened after he'd had a nap, before standing from his seat and stripping off his scratchy tunic. Leaving his pants on (he wasn't that sleepy) the blond managed to kick off his boots before landing splayed on the bed, immediately falling into the deep dreamless sleep of the exhausted.
oOo
Mikael leaned against the door to Wolfram's room, smiling when he heard the whump that was the sound of Wolfram falling onto the bed. He pressed his ear against the wood, grinning brightly when he heard soft, even breathing quickly morph into slight snoring. He pushed away from the door, trying very hard not to skip to his office.
Oh. My. Gods.
Wolfram was amazing. Every hope and expectation Mikael had gathered when it came to the blond soldier had been fulfilled then surpassed within seconds of Wolfram speaking. He couldn't help but think that where he had sat, looking up to Wolfram, showed exactly what he felt in his heart and intellect.
Total. Unbridled. Awe.
An angry angel with a sharp tongue and sharper mind. And he let me call him by his name! And he's asleep in my castle! And he asked me if I loved him!
Not used to being reduced to a wobbly pile of happy feelings, Mikael tried to calm himself, calling a nearby maid and telling her to get Hedrid to meet him in his office in a half hour. Alone again, Mikael recalled their conversation. Wolfram hadn't looked petrified and alarmed, even when Mikael refused to give him a straight answer to his question:
"Now tell me what you want from me."
I want you as my best friend, I want you to help me rule this country, I want you to smile at me, and since I definitely love you, I want to never, ever let you be found by that callous bastard you call a fiancé.
Called a fiancé.
Mikael pinched his cheeks to stop his smile from growing any bigger. When he had sent Hedrid and his men out to get Wolfram, it was because he had been intrigued by the stories surrounding the blond. Irritating, biased, rash, loud, spoilt, hot-headed, irrationally proud; yet kind to children, extremely protective of his family, blindly loyal in his unreturned love for his king, brave, honourable, and of course, unspeakably beautiful. All the rumours, both good and bad made the blond very fascinating to Mikael, and the appeal of soft-spoken ladies and well-bred gentlemen escaped his notice as he learned more about Wolfram, mild curiosity blossoming into a small crush.
Having the conversation with Wolfram just proved to Mikael that his favourite version of Wolfram, created in anticipation of his arrival, was indeed what the soldier was (brave, intelligent, perceptive, capable, short-tempered). Yet occasionally, deeper currents of emotions and thoughts had surfaced tantalisingly in those emerald eyes, impossible to read but hinting of a man much, much more impressive than the one who had sat before him. And in Mikael's not-so-humble opinion, the Wolfram who had stared him down despite being bone-weary was already impossibly impressive.
Mikael felt like laughing.
It was fun, having a person he could be friends with and respect endlessly, yet still love deeply. Before this, he hadn't really felt like he was missing anything, rare dates with foreign princesses usually leaving him more annoyed than giddy.
With Wolfram, everything looked more interesting and funnier and more possible. The blond's method of running over anything that stood in his path and happily scaring people with a look was horrendously amusing.
There was a knock on the door. Mikael shook himself out of his dreaming, shocked that half an hour had already passed, before asking Hedrid to come in. Silently the older man creeped in, not making a sound on the hardwood floors, before sitting on a chair opposite Mikael's at the insistence of the king.
"Hedrid, first I need to apologise to you for my stupidity at the beginning of this venture. Threatening to send all of you to the deepest, darkest dungeons unless you brought me Lord Bielefelt was unfair and just damn awful of me. I was obsessed with His Excellency, and I need you to know that even if he wasn't here I wouldn't have done what I said. I've had a migraine since I said that to you, I felt like such a tyrant. So, the next time I make a stupid order and threaten anyone to do my bidding when it's obviously inappropriate, I give you the right to ignore me until I'm rational again, alright?"
Hedrid nodded, face impassive. Leaning back in his chair, Mikael observed Hedrid through half-lidded eyes.
"You rode with him for days, Hedrid. Be honest, what do you really think of Lord Bielefelt?"
Hedrid replied without hesitation.
"He is intelligent, so brave he may be fearless, and strong in will and body. Regardless of his standing as a soldier and a noble, Lord Bielefelt is a man who commands respect."
Mikael nodded in agreement.
"He is also extremely uncooperative when forced to do something he does not wish to do; so unyielding that it would be less painful to let him have his way than to browbeat him into obedience"
Hedrid made sure his face did not betray his anxiety; his subtle hint for the king not to make Wolfram do anything strictly against the blond's own wishes was a result of a deep compulsion to try and keep Wolfram happy. Even so, his king must never know his reasoning.
Happily, Mikael merely chuckled before nodding some more.
"I know what you mean, Hedrid. I intend to have Wolfram stay indefinitely; he's entirely captured my attention. Return his clothes and the stuff you seized from his camp to him when he awakes. He's in the Yellow Room, the one nearest my bedchamber. And try to keep an eye on him Hedrid, even though I know the head of my Royal Guard doesn't really like being around people" Mikael smiled apologetically, before his demeanour became serious.
"Now, I want a report on how His Highness Shibuya Yuuri is coping with the loss of his better half. I need to know their every move, every suspicion, if I'm to keep him away and Wolfram here. You don't need to go yourself, but I want the information by tomorrow afternoon the latest."
Hedrid slightly inclined his head, secretly grateful that the task was so agreeable. A rare appearance of selfishness and misplaced fatherly worry had now made Hedrid want to keep Wolfram here in Petrach castle almost as much as Mikael did, if for different reasons.
Hedrid was no fool (except in the company of a recently acquainted blond soldier with the power to burn without fire), he knew the intelligence of his king. If Mikael was dead-set on keeping Wolfram with him, nothing short of a miraculous stroke of genius could outmaneuver him. Even then, the outcome would be uncertain. Mikael usually prepared several different, inspired methods to win before his opponent even knew there was a game being played.
And Hedrid had heard stories, there were always stories about people like Wolfram.
Noble blood, beautiful, spurned. Hedrid heard the rumours, listened to the gossip of traveling men and idle maids. He had never paid much attention to these sort of things before, but had started listening when Mikael had first wanted to learn more about Wolfram.
And things were awful. The bad things he reported to his king were severely watered-down versions. The words used to describe Wolfram by his own countrymen, half-demons passing through, were so vulgar that even before he knew the boy, Hedrid had felt sorry for him. By any standards, four years of stagnant relations was too long, more than enough to invite speculation. The fact that Wolfram was engaged to a king made people almost insanely vicious, mocking him and claiming horrible acts as his.
Half of the things Mikael had written in that first letter to lure Wolfram out had been almost direct quotations, almost, because Mikael had found too much swearing marred the dignity of the fake letter. Knowing Wolfram as he did now, Hedrid couldn't imagine he'd ever be entirely happy to have the blond return to his homeland. A personality this... ah, amazing, needed to be looked after.
So he carefully tucked the order in the back of his mind, ready to be recalled for when he sends messages to his contacts, before leaning forward when Mikael began speaking again.
" Now that this little issue has been taken care of, there are other things I have to tell you. Those idiot lords in the south are making a nuisance of themselves again, so what I want you to do is..."
continued only if people are interested :)
yay for mikael! He finally gets a chapter to himself, and I like him a lot. Vivi says he's a bit dull, but I think he's adorable X3 Next chapter is Yuuri getting his act together.
this is a whopper of a chapter, no? It gets longer, too, so I hope nobody minds a bit of heavy reading. The next chapter is done and it's epic, for me :)
as usual, thanks to vivi and to everyone who reads this, and especially if you like it XD
see you guys soon, probably in 2 months' time nn I'd update faster, only school is getting brilliantly hectic.