Temple of the Winds 6
By: sagelibra
Pairing: Yuuram
Rating: PG-13 (may change)
Summary: There's one more custom Yuuri doesn't know about.
Disclaimer: Don't own any of them.
-o0o-
Mother,
The Temple of the Winds has taken Wolfram.
/No/
Mother,
I regret to inform you that Wolfram is no longer with us.
/No/
Mother,
Forgive me. I couldn't protect him…
/NO!/
Gwendal drew the paper into a crumbled ball and threw it forcefully in the general direction of the trash bin. He missed, evidence of his inner turmoil, and the ball of paper joined several others of its kind littering the erstwhile immaculate floor.
Not that the dark-haired man noticed. A loud curse echoed around the room as he tipped his head back, long fingers kneading his temple as he strove to find the words. Words that would somehow cause the least amount of anguish to his mother.
Then again, how do you break something like this gently? How do you tell a mother that her son was lost? As good as dead? That whereas he had survived the almost-breaking of the world, he was lost to something as unyielding as custom?
No, this was not something that can be relayed through a letter. That way was too cold. Too cruel. This was something that had to be done in person.
And he was that person.
Gwendal took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do. It was his duty. As the Eldest, it was his responsibility to watch over his brothers. Wolfram's loss was as much his failure as the Heika's. It was his duty to inform their mother of Wolfram's fate.
A knock on the door had him straightening, and seeing who stood there turned his incipient frown into a near-scowl, before his impassive mask slammed down over his face and emotions.
The Maou stared back, his expression nervous but resolute.
"Gwendal?" Yuuri almost squeaked before catching himself and clearing his throat. "Can we talk?"
Gwendal rose, his training forcing him to accord the King courtesy, if, at this point in time, he could not summon respect. Remember that he saved this kingdom, the world, and countless lives, he told himself harshly. "Certainly, Your Majesty." His tone was strictly formal, his eyes veiled.
Yuuri advanced into the room uneasily, all too conscious of the less than welcoming expression on his chief advisor's face.
"You haven't been joining us for meals." He began tentatively.
"I have been busy going over trade treaties and reviewing alliance proposals." Gwendal replied shortly. "Now that Your Majesty's great deeds and valor have been proven to the world, kingdoms and countries far and wide are vying to be counted among our allies."
Yuuri winced at the dry reply. Wolfram's passionate outbursts were welcome any day over Gwendal's sharp tongue.
"You're still mad at me, aren't you?" He bit his lip. He hated the feeling that he had let everyone down, even if it was the truth. Conrad would never say so, but not even he could hide the sorrow in his eyes whenever they alighted on Wolfram's empty seat. Whatever the issues that lay between them, Conrad had cared very much for his temperamental sibling. And Günter's pained silence over the dinner table was just as difficult to face. Yuuri knew Gwendal's anger at him was driving a wedge between the lovers, and that knowledge made him even more miserable, because he knew how devoted they were to each other.
Gwendal leaned back against the hard chair, his face set.
Stymied, wondering how to go about appeasing the pony-tailed man, Yuuri's gaze flickered restlessly around the room. They fell on the littered floor and his eyes widened in surprise.
Gwendal shifted uncomfortably under the shocked stare. "I was trying to write a letter to Mother, informing her of Wolfram's – " he hesitated, " - departure."
Yuuri's heart nosedived. Oh God, Celi.
"She will never forgive me for this…" His voice was a whisper.
Gwendal shrugged, the words out before he could stop them. "You are the Maou, you do not need anyone's forgiveness."
Yuuri blanched, turning away to hide his distress. Was this how Gwendal truly saw him? Disheartened and discouraged, tears welling in his eyes, Yuuri would have fled, but Gwendal's next words stayed him.
"Forgive me." Shame and remorse colored Gwendal's tone. "That was uncalled for." And it was, he acknowledged grimly. It was not his place to judge the King, and truly, Yuuri was an exemplary ruler. Kind, compassionate, and much-loved by his people.
Loved, even by the very person he had failed the most.
Yuuri stared dejectedly at his chief adviser. "I know you blame me for failing Wolfram, Gwendal. I blame myself too." The lump in his throat made speaking difficult. "This shouldn't have happened. I should have been able to stop this from happening."
Gwendal sighed, his anger leaving him as he slowly lowered himself to his chair. "You didn't know."
"I'm the Maou. I should have known." Yuuri argued bitterly.
Gwendal was silent for a moment. /Yes, Your Majesty, you should have. You saved the world. Saved countless people you had never even met. How could you have failed to save Wolfram?/It was an unreasonable demand. Unfair. And yet it was there, in his heart. Grief was many things, but it had never been fair. He shook himself, forced the brother to step aside and the general to come forth. "We should have told you. That was our duty. You cannot be expected to deal with matters you have no knowledge of." He hesitated. "We should have told you about the custom after you defeated Wolfram in the duel."
"But?" The old hurt peeked out.
"You weren't ready." Was the simple reply. "You were having such a difficult time accepting our world and your role in it. You fought us at every turn. You missed your home, was intimidated by the expectations and burdens placed upon you. How could we add to that?"
"And later?"
"By then we couldn't. Wolfram had asked you to take it back that day, do you remember?" Gwendal spoke quietly, "He asked not only because you were a complete stranger to him, but also because he knew this day would come. But you defeated him in the duel before he could tell you, and his fate was sealed. He had no recourse left but to try and make it work. " He shrugged. "My brother has always been too proud for his own good. It is not in his nature to ask for mercy."
Yuuri shuddered. All this time…the thought that Wolfram had been trapped by this insane custom, and unable to do anything about it…just thinking about how he would have felt in the blonde's place made his gut twist painfully. Wolfram must have felt so helpless! No wonder he had been so angry and volatile! And that last night – Yuuri closed his eyes against the pain that rose inside him. He couldn't begin to imagine how Wolfram had felt, rejected by the one person who could save him. And at the end of it, to offer him comfort when it was he who was being banished…
"Take care of yourself while I'm gone, Yuuri."
"Promise me you'll come home. Soon."
"Of course I'll be back, wimp. Soon."
/Stupid, stupid Yuuri! He cursed himself, wanting so badly to kick himself for his ignorance and insensitivity. "He should have just told me!" He got out.
Gwendal gazed at him, something indecipherable in his indigo eyes. "He would have, eventually," he told the King gently, "if he hadn't fallen in love with you."
Yuuri recoiled as though struck.
"Were it just a marriage of convenience, if it was simply to save himself, Wolfram would have told you about the Temple that last night. Or he would have allowed one of us to enlighten you about the custom on his behalf. He would have seen it as your duty to him since you were the one who had made the retraction impossible." Yuuri couldn't have torn his gaze from the adviser if his life had depended on it. "But his feelings were involved. His pride, his heart wouldn't let him settle for a loveless marriage. He needed more than just a commitment from you. He needed your love."
And when Yuuri couldn't give him that, he had chosen to set Yuuri free instead, and condemned himself to eternal exile.
Yuuri had never known what it was to love another person in the romantic sense. Thus far all his passion and energies had been centered on saving people. But when the enormity of just how greatly he had been loved sank in, he began to understand, finally, what it was that he had lost.
That understanding swept away all his petty prejudices and doubts, and opened his eyes to a truth his heart had always known, but his inexperience and stubbornness had led him to deny.
Too late.
The tears came then, sliding down pale cheeks even as sobs shook his shoulders. How could he have failed Wolfram so completely?
How?
A hand settled on his shoulder and reluctantly, he lifted his face to see a softening on Gwendal's stern features.
"Can you comprehend now, Maou Heika, why I could not contain my anger on my brother's behalf?" He asked quietly. "You are the greatest King Shin Makoku has ever had, and I would lay my life down for you, as would everyone in this kingdom. But Wolfram is my brother, and his sacrifice pains me deeply because I know his love for you was pure." His voice grew rough with restrained emotion. "Wolfram had always guarded his heart so carefully because he was terrified of the cost it would demand from him. But against all odds he loved you…"
And you failed him.
"I didn't realize…" Yuuri wailed, trembling with the force of his emotions.
"I know." Gwendal said after a moment, a soft sigh escaping him as he stepped away from the Maou. Returning to his desk, he sat down and stared blankly at the sheet of paper before him. "Be at ease, Your Majesty," he said softly, "I will join you for dinner."
Not forgiveness. Not yet. Not while the anguish weighed so heavily in his heart. But it was a start. In time he would be able to gaze at the Maou and not see his brother's shadow. In time he would be able to forgive the Maou's inability to love.
Yuuri stared at his downcast eyes, knowing that something had broken between him and his chief adviser, something that only Wolfram's return could hope to repair.
"I will find him, Gwendal." Yuuri promised shakily. "I swear I won't stop until I've brought Wolfram back." Because only by bringing his fiancé back could he start to heal the wound that had rent the heart of Blood Pledge Castle.
And because only by bringing his fiancé's back can he find the part of himself he had lost.
Gwendal nodded, but the gesture held no confidence.
"I will bring him home." Yuuri reiterated, the blaze in the obsidian eyes that of determination.
Indigo eyes locked on black. Finally, Gwendal inclined his head in acceptance, watching as Yuuri strode out of his room purposefully. Only then did he allow his shoulders to slump.
He believed Yuuri. Trusted in the goodness of the Maou's heart. He would indeed do everything in his power to return Wolfram to his family. But – some things were beyond even the power of the Demon King to do.
Gwendal had not been idle in the weeks since Wolfram had left. Even knowing of the Temple's reputation, despite of it, he had searched every nook and cranny of every part of the known world. Had done everything he could, had exhausted all avenues, searching for the Temple of the Winds, yearning for a word, a whisper of his brother's location.
He had failed.
Aye, Gwendal trusted in the Maou with all his heart, but he feared that in the end, not even the Great Demon King can prevail against fate.
-o0o-
It was time.
The old monk moved quietly into the room, his eyes on the unmoving figure on the hard cot. It had been a week since Wolfram had touched his tools, and in all that time he had rarely left his bed. He ate little and spoke less. Was unresponsive and listless.
It was time.
"You didn't touch your food." Again, was the silent rebuke. The gentle tenor was a familiar sound, one that Wolfram had grown used to. It had slowly, gradually, become a part of his life in the Temple. It was his constant companion. It soothed his sorrow, appeased his anger, and in its own way, filled the gaping void in his life.
Wolfram closed his eyes, the effort required of replying simply too much to bother. Besides, he had given up trying to drive the monk away a long time ago. Nothing he did or said could seem to do that.
And in truth, he couldn't seem to bring himself to care anymore.
The old monk let his eyes drift over the paintings, lying forgotten around the room. "Nor have you worked on anything new…."
Wolfram turned away, as much to tune him out as to escape the dead eyes that stared out at him. He had surrounded himself with his memories. He recalled, dimly, the urgency with which he had sketched, drew, and painted. The desperation to hang on to the people he had loved – his family, his friends, Yuuri.
But when he had finished painting…Wolfram curled into himself. He had gazed at them, searching in their eyes something to help him go on. Something to hold on to in this desolate place – comfort, perhaps. And he had received none.
He had poured out all his heart, his need and his love, into every canvass, and in the end there had been nothing.
Nothing.
Wolfram stopped painting that day.
The old monk let the silence stretch out a moment longer. Then, as he had for the past few days, he began speaking while straightening out the room. He spoke of the fields Wolfram had razed, telling the blonde ex-prince about the grass growing again. He spoke of Wimp and the horse's refusal to be ridden by anyone but Wolfram. He spoke of prayers and meditations, of the wide open spaces and the deep blue seas, of the kindness of the monks and the serenity of their lives.
When the monk had first started talking – what – two, three days ago? Or had it been last week? A slight furrow touched Wolfram's brow. A small voice telling him he should keep track of the days. But what for? Wolfram let the thought go. No, the days didn't matter, not in the Temple. Time held no meaning here. There were only endless days that melted into each other until Wolfram no longer remembered how long it had been since his arrival at the Temple.
Wolfram's thoughts circled idly. Oh yes, when the monk had started, whenever that had been, he hadn't listened. He hadn't cared enough to want to. Certainly hadn't meant to. It had just been easier to let the monk drone on than to try and shut him up. He never listened, anyway. So Wolfram had let him talk, and the monk had let him drift in his cloud of lethargy.
But as time went on Wolfram found that listening to the voice, if not the words, brought a curious sense of….tranquility.
It kept him from feeling lost and adrift. Anchored him.
" Here in the Temple we are No one and Everyone. It is no longer who I am but who We are. Alone the pain of our past is unbearable, but Together there is no hurt we cannot overcome…"
"…you do not have to be alone…"
"…you will learn, Wolfram, that the face of true happiness is inner peace…"
Inner peace.
The path to true happiness was inner peace.
/All I wanted was for someone to love me for me./
/All I wanted was for Yuuri to love me back./
/I wanted to be happy./
/Why couldn't I be happy?/
A gentle hand settled on his shoulder, and Wolfram turned to gaze up at the invitation in the old monk's eyes.
"Let the Temple bring you true happiness, Wolfram." He didn't realize he had voiced his heart's question. "We promise you will never know pain or abandonment again."
True happiness.
Inner peace, not love.
The Temple, not Yuuri.
/But I will have to give up my name…/
"Who you are no longer matters here…. no kingdoms…no greed, no ambition, no politics…no war… no need for knights or generals."
"There is only the Temple."
Why was he fighting it? What was a name? It had not given him any happiness. It had not given him Yuuri's love.
What did it really matter now?
Smiling brown eyes stared down at him. "Join us, Wolfram," they urged softly, "let us bring you true happiness."
/I just want to be happy./
He closed his eyes. "Yes."
-o0o-