you Kara Maou : The Trouble With Trolls

Summary: Wolfram's attempt to bypass Maou Wedding Curse with a small family ceremony, backfires when an uninvited relative arrives - the Troll Mother.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

Please review.

Chapter 3 : Entrolled

Manfred forced his eyes away from the cheery little red sack of special sausages for Troll Mother and Little Rickie and Dorie. "Wolfram," he said, "your quest to Bielenfeld and Gratz just got… urgent. I need Friedrich and Lord Wincott now. I need Cecilie to get you there, and them back, as fast as possible. The Donza River is empty at this hour – she can sail the yacht full-out, drop you off in Bielenfeld, collect Lord Wincott, come back for Friedrich, and be back here by noon. And once Friedrich's moving to the dock, you run like hell for Gratz. No, better yet, collect Dietrich and Friedrich, and hitch a ride back to Gratzport with Cheri."

"Understood, Chichiue," said Wolfram softly. "Have you ever seen Aldrich… like that before?"

"No. He may be entrolled. See you on the other side, pretty vixen," Manfred said, clasping Wolfram's shoulder in a quick good-bye. "Yuuri, let's catch Gwendal before this… meal. And we need to send those down to be cooked. Very, very separately. And throw the pot away afterward…"

Yuuri shared a quick kiss and firm hand-clasp with Wolfram. "I love you," he murmured. "Be careful? And hug and kiss the kids every day for me?"

"Always," Wolfram murmured. "Yuuri… Aldrich… take care of him for me?"

Yuuri frowned in question, but Wolfram didn't elaborate, just gave him another kiss and motioned him to go. Yuuri had to run down the hall to catch up with Manfred, whose once-lame leg was good as new these days. Gwendal's room turned out to be a popular destination. Conrad and Günter and Ted von Trondheim had preceded them, and the meeting was spilling out into the hall.

Manfred slowed and approached warily. "Oh, hi, Ted. Have you seen Troll Mother yet?"

"No, not yet," he replied, eyes shining above a huge dopey smile. "I can't wait! Oh, I love Troll Mother! Isn't she nice?"

Yuuri abruptly realized that he didn't need to ask what 'entrolled' meant. It meant – that. The top-ranking peacetime general of all Shin Makoku stood before him, clearly stoned out of his gourd, childlike and silly, just as Aldrich had been.

"Oh, we won't keep you long, then. But before you go, I was hoping you could help me," Manfred said. Ted was only momentarily puzzled by the fact that he hadn't intended to go anywhere. "Aldrich says he's one-eighth troll. Is that right?"

"Yes, one-eighth," confirmed the massive over six-and-a-half footer Ted, with the exaggerated nod of a kindergartener. "Troll Mother said."

"And Aldrich's mother – she's your father's full sister, yes?" Again with the idiot nod. "And you're one quarter troll?"

"I'm three eighths. My mother was a quarter troll. My father was half-troll."

"But Aldrich's mother was your father's full sister, right?"

"That's right."

"So your father's mother and father were both half trolls?" Nod. "But his father was a… small half troll?"

"Yeah, he was half troll, half elf. That's why we're so delicate," answered Ted agreeably. There was nothing delicate about Ted von Trondheim. In fact, there was a striking family resemblance to Troll Mother. His front teeth were even pointy, and his canine teeth… long. This zoned out Ted seemed oblivious to the simple arithmetic journey Manfred was leading him on.

"So your Aunt Alana was half troll, quarter elf, like your father." Nod. "So Aldrich is a quarter troll, eighth elf."

"No – Aldrich is an eighth troll. Troll Mother said."

"Is he a quarter elf then?" Manfred asked, in pure irritation.

"Huh?"

"How's your brother, Ted?" interrupted Gwendal.

"Oh, really great!" said Ted, breaking into a wide dimpled grin – a very wide grin, Yuuri noticed. Trolls seemed to have rather flexible jaws. "He wrote me a letter just last week. He was the happiest I've heard in a long time. He was so glad he woke Troll Mother. She just makes everything – better. You know?"

Manfred nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, we won't keep you any longer, Ted. Oh, on the way, take these sausages to the kitchen for me, will you? To be cooked very, very separately."

"Oh!" Ted's eyes widened. "Oh, sure thing, Manfred, yeah. Seeya, guys."

Once Ted was out of earshot, Yuuri said sadly, "He wasn't lying. He believed what he was saying. He couldn't see that it didn't make sense." Yuuri liked Ted. The man was thorough and calm, always got his facts straight, the ideal man in an emergency. Yet Ted couldn't even add fractions correctly if the result would contradict what 'Troll Mother Said'.

"So, is Aldrich entrolled, too?" said Gwendal. "Wasn't that the theory, Günter? That an eighth troll or less couldn't get entrolled?"

Günter's arms were crossed stubbornly over his chest. "What does it matter? It appears Lord Aldrich is a quarter troll, over 200 years of age. Your majesty, it is complete folly to let that troll speak on your behalf to Troll Mother!"

"Is it?" answered Yuuri slowly, thinking of Wolfram's request, that he take care of Aldrich. Then he shook his head in abrupt decision. "Lord Aldrich has done nothing wrong. He greeted his great-grandmother according to her people's customs. We did ask him here as a cultural go-between. Ah, Günter – we moved up the timetable on Wolfram's departure for Bielenfeld. You'd better get moving."

"But your majesty!" Günter wailed. "You need me here to protect you!"

"No, friend," replied Yuuri. "I need you to go to Bielenfeld and protect my children. And Manfred's, Adelbert's, Gwendal's, Lord Aldrich's, and Lord Brendan's children as well. I'm trusting you with their lives."

As Günter headed off only somewhat mollified, Conrad echoed Yuuri's thoughts. "You know, that was rather odd of Aldrich, setting up a 'side quest' to 'keep the Krists busy'. A little quest involving the Maou's, plus the heirs to three domains."

Gwendal sighed. "Including mine. What's your verdict, Manfred? Is he entrolled? Or more to the point, can he be trusted?"

Manfred looked at Yuuri thoughtfully, then looked away. "Aldrich was not entrolled when he asked us to send the children away. He was perfectly lucid over his potatoes this evening. And… scheming. A rather elaborate scheme, actually…" He looked Gwendal in the eye. "There is no way Aldrich would endanger Dietrich and Efram and the other children. If he sent them away, they're safer that way. I'm sure of it."

Yuuri asked, "Why did you send for Friedrich and Lord Wincott in such a hurry, Manfred?"

Manfred looked away again at that. "We may need to pull an Aldrich on Aldrich, and depose him as Lord Bielenfeld, if his judgment… seems impaired. I'd need Friedrich and Lord Wincott to do it." Yuuri had no trouble interpreting this – Aldrich had deposed Friedrich as Lord Bielenfeld during the pirate affair. The maneuver required an heir and a spare. Or in this case, an heir's regent, since Aldrich's son Dietrich was too young – presumably Manfred or Friedrich was that regent. Yuuri was unsure what Lord Wincott had to do with it. Possibly they required him present, as the eldest and leader of the Eleven Aristocrats.

"Besides," Manfred continued, "this whole troll-management scheme after the Great Troll and Goblin War was their doing. If we're not sure we can trust Aldrich, we should go to the source. Your father General Lord Walde was the hero of that war, but… it sounds like not much troll lore got passed down to you, Gwendal."

"No, Hahaue forbade Günter to teach us about trolls and goblins," agreed Gwendal uncomfortably. Conrad nodded.

"It shows," said Manfred. "Fortunately Cecilie couldn't forbid me – Wolfram and Efram know their stuff. Gwendal, being an eighth troll instead of a quarter troll wouldn't make Aldrich immune to entrollment. There are only a handful of Mazoku races who are fully immune. Demons are one of them. But you're not a pureblood demon. Are you," he said pointedly. "The problem in Aldrich's case, is that quarter trolls over 200… 'go to the trolls'."

"Well, gentlemen," interrupted Yuuri, "I've no intention of letting my vassal Lord Aldrich 'go to the trolls', whatever that means. Right now, we have, um, a late-night snack with a visiting dignitary to attend to. Do you recommend that I remove Lord Aldrich from the proceedings?"

"No," they all replied. Conrad added, "We don't have a choice, Sire. None of us understands trolls."

"She seems to speak clearly enough," observed Yuuri.

"I disagree, Wolfram's Yuuri," said Manfred sardonically. "Yuuri, I'd like nothing better than for you to get Aldrich the hell away from Troll Mother before she eats him. But let him find out what she wants first."

"Amen to that," said Gwendal. He looked more than a little worried by Manfred's comment about his ancestry. Yuuri recalled that Aldrich had said something earlier about that, which had caused Gwendal to do an abrupt about-face. But he brushed that question aside. Let's just deal with the troll for now.

oOo

Yuuri was damned if he was going to sit down to a meal with a – whatever kind of visiting dignitary a Troll Mother was – in his pajamas. By the time he and Gwendal and Conrad made it to the dining room, Aldrich and Ted were already there, clambering up on Troll Mother's chair for fun and chattering away with her in Trondish. Manfred was already sitting there quietly, still in Aldrich's borrowed nightshirt. Annissina couldn't very well make a troll chair short enough to fit under the dining table. So she'd placed the table and regular chairs on a raised dais, leaving only Troll Mother's chair on the floor. Aldrich, still in his blue nightshirt, looked particularly small and precious with his bare shins and feet dangling.

"Oh, oh! Our host is here, move along to your own chairs, little dears!" Troll Mother lifted Aldrich and Ted down off her chair to their seats on either side of her. On cue, now that the Maou had arrived, the bleary-eyed kitchen staff brought in huge bowls of sausages and Tarkenburg purple and Bielenfeld blue potatoes, plus a smaller bowl of sausages set between Troll Mother and Ted.

"Now, Little Rickie, are you sure it's Wolfram's Yuuri who is Maou now, and not the other way around?" Troll Mother asked him in a stage whisper, which made the silverware dance. "The pink girl looked more like the Maou."

"I'm sure," said Aldrich. "Manfred's Cecilie was the Maou before. Manfred's Cecilie is Wolfram's mother, but Wolfram's Yuuri is Maou now. And the girl in pink is a boy, but she's not here now."

Yuuri couldn't imagine how this served as a clarification.

"Ah, well, she was a little confusing anyway," allowed Troll Mother. "I made these sausages myself, Wolfram's Yuuri," she said, finally addressing Yuuri. "I do so hope you like them."

Aldrich demonstrated troll table manners by pushing his spork under his plate and stabbing a sausage from the big bowl, to eat directly off his knife. "Yum! These are really good, Troll Mother! Is this venison?"

"Yes, dear, pork and venison. I do hope they're not too spicy for your small friends? I don't usually cook for such very small."

Yuuri realized that the men around him sighed out breaths they were holding at Aldrich's first chomp at a sausage. What, did they think it was people sausage? He elected to show leadership by stabbing a sausage for himself and eating it off the knife as Aldrich had. "Mm, delicious! You are a very good cook, Troll Mother!" he said. "It is appropriate for me to call you Troll Mother? Or…?" he directed that at Aldrich.

Aldrich nodded in unconcern. "Troll Mother, I'd like you to try these potatoes. They're from my domain, Bielenfeld. My own plantation grows the blue ones, but I like the purples best."

"Oh, they're very pretty, dear! You have your own plantation? Why that's handy! Now, I was hoping to see Little Danny's boy, I heard he lived here now?"

Ted frowned, something important vaguely troubling him. "Um, Troll Mother, Adelbert –"

"Bert's not home," interrupted Aldrich. "He works for Yuuri's Conrad," he explained, pointing at Conrad. "That's Yuuri's Conrad and Yuuri's Gwendal. They're my Manfred's step-sons, Wolfram's brothers. Yuuri's Gwendal and Conrad are Aristocrats like me, but Gwendal is also the chancellor. Yuuri's Conrad deals with humans."

"Oh! Well, I'm pleased to meet you! I hope Danny's Bertie is doing a good job for you, Yuuri's Conrad! Danny's Bertie is around your age, isn't he, Dorie?"

"A little younger," replied Ted. "He's Aldrich's Manfred's age."

"Ah! Well, humans certainly do take a lot of watching after," said Troll Mother. "I'm sure you and Danny's Bertie keep busy, Yuuri's Conrad. Why just the other week we had another human who ignored the anti-poaching signs. Came in waving a fancy pigsticker around, saying something about how being a hero, he had to protect people from evil trolls. Never did figure out what evil trolls the silly small was talking about."

Yuuri had a sinking feeling. "What was his name?"

"Afro Muckraker or something. Why, did you know him?"

"Ah, yes. Could we… have him back?"

"No, dear, I'm afraid we ate him. I'm sorry, I didn't know he was a friend of yours. Maybe Lord Erick would have invited you to the death feast?" She looked uncertainly at Aldrich at this. Trondheims didn't normally invite outsiders to death feasts – she was under the impression they didn't like to come.

Yuuri saw the point of impact on Aldrich's face. For a fleeting instant, across Aldrich's bland euphoria registered – rage. But as quickly as it came, it vanished, as Troll Mother looked to Aldrich for cross-cultural guidance. He nodded to her blandly.

"Are these him?" asked Ted, indicating the special bowl. "Afro Muckraker?"

"Why no, dear." Troll Mother put her hand on Aldrich's shoulder and toyed with his bangs with her forefinger again, glancing at him in concern. "These are Little Lin. Now, Little Rickie, you are going to be a troll about this, aren't you? Franklin wouldn't like it if you acted small at his death feast."

Oh, no, thought Yuuri. 'Lord Erick' is what Aldrich reacted to. Erick is Franklin's son...

Ted needed no urging to be a troll about it. He stuck a knife into a chunk of his older brother eagerly. "Lin? Really, Troll Mother? Oh, wow! Franklin went to the trolls, Rick!"

Troll Mother swatted Ted playfully, chiding, "Wait for the prayer, dear. Lin's Rickie should lead it for us, he was closest." She helpfully stabbed a sausage and handed it to him. "You do remember the words, don't you, Little Rickie?"

Aldrich stared blankly at the sausage of his oldest, dearest friend for a moment. Troll Mother continued petting him. Then he nodded and smiled a little. "Shamshesh allem, Franklin rehs…" he began, Ted and Troll Mother joining him for the rest of the prayer.

And then Yuuri's vassal Lord Aldrich von Bielenfeld did bite into and eat a sausage of Yuuri's late vassal Lord Franklin von Trondheim. As did Franklin's younger brother and great-grandmother. And they ate in silence until all of Lord Franklin was gone.

Gwendal and Conrad and Manfred and Yuuri sipped the water slowly, to keep their stomachs down.

oOo

They saw Troll Mother off to the ballroom-made-bedroom as the sky started to lighten. She said perhaps they'd get to a little business at breakfast that night. She invited Aldrich in with her, but Manfred firmly held onto him, and she didn't insist. Ted happily joined her instead.

The remaining men walked up the hallway in silence until they turned to the right. Once around the bend, Aldrich stumbled into the wall and slowly slid down it to the floor, hugging himself and shaking, his one good hand over his mouth.

Manfred slid down the wall next to him. "Feel free to vomit," he suggested.

"No. No! No…" Aldrich shook his head more and more vehemently, shaking harder and harder with each syllable. Manfred took him in his arms and held him. "I can't… Franklin wouldn't want… I will not throw up, I… Lin…"

"Shamshesh allem? Is that how it starts?" Yuuri said gently, squatting down by Aldrich.

"Shamshesh allem…" Manfred repeated softly, as the tears poured down Aldrich's face.

"Shamshesh allem, Franklin rehs – damn you, Franklin, you didn't even say good-bye!" Aldrich broke down sobbing completely, his face buried in Manfred's borrowed nightgown.

Yuuri stroked Aldrich's back. He said gently, "Manfred, you and Lord Aldrich should get some rest. Then perhaps you could meet with us at three, for further discussions?"

Manfred nodded gratefully. Yuuri and Gwendal and Conrad left them there, to go sleep for a few hours themselves.

oOo

Aldrich cried himself to sleep, cuddled in Manfred's arms in the big bed. Manfred stayed wakeful a long time, watching the sunrise, tenderly stroking Aldrich's frazzled blue and blond hair, the broad back's satin skin, the foreshortened arm.

It wasn't long before Wolfram was born, when Aldrich lost his arm and his military career. Manfred was so caught up in trying to make a life with Cecilie, he hadn't been there at all for Aldrich, indeed nagged at his older cousin in letters to help him, to make Friedrich and Stoeffel agree to their marriage. And though Aldrich approved of the marriage even less than Friedrich, he did what he could, because Manfred asked it.

Manfred hadn't realized how bad it had been for Aldrich until his own leg and career were destroyed, and Cecilie sent him packing back to Castle Bielenfeld, humiliated and living rage. But Aldrich knew exactly what he was going through – he'd been living it himself, and worse. Seven of Aldrich's men died of his failure as a commander, and he couldn't forgive himself for it. His marriage to Glynda von Wincott had gone from lousy to hideous. She told him daily how his body disgusted her. She couldn't bear to look at his arm, or let it touch her. He fell into the bottom of a bottle for years. Just a month before Manfred came home, Glynda had gotten particularly vicious one night, and he'd hit her. Strong as he was, and tiny as she was, the one punch shattered her jaw.

Friedrich was able to heal her jaw completely within the day, of course. No one was ever able to heal their marriage. Not that it had been worth saving before then. Sweet-tempered – trollishly so – Aldrich was so horrified by what he'd done, that he never touched a drop of alcohol again. He was still shaking from withdrawal when Manfred came home, not knowing any of this. He hadn't asked. He'd been too caught up in his own life, having turned his back on Bielenfeld years before. He saw Aldrich at cousin reunions, of course, almost every Winterfair and Summerfair. He'd been peripherally aware that Franklin and Friedrich were worried by Aldrich's drinking. But Aldrich was sixty years older, a fixture, an adult to lean on, strong as the 6,000 year old stone of Castle Bielenfeld.

When Manfred came home in defeat, a shaky Aldrich had taken him into his own room to care for him. Aldrich healed his leg four times a day for pain management, and taught him to do it. He dropped everything to be with Manfred, help him deal with his rage, negotiate to adopt Wolfram formally as his heir and remain in his life, help him figure out what to do with his own life next. They faced their pain together and healed together, and became able to stand and pick up their lives again. And both rejected by their women, feeling that their bodies were repulsive to anyone but each other, they fell into each other's arms as lovers.

Glynda had been furious. She'd leaned on her cousin Suzanna Julia to put a stop to this. They'd fought it, but… Cecilie's hold on Wolfram was a powerful bargaining chip, and Cecilie and Suzanna were fast friends. Manfred landed up installed at the Bielenfeld Majutsu Institute, studying and then teaching. Aldrich remained at Castle Bielenfeld, taking over more and more of the running of the domain from his elderly father. Sometimes they went years without falling into bed again. But if ever Manfred needed Aldrich, he was there. Sometimes he never even knew how Aldrich found out. Manfred had never told a soul about his daughter – yet the night she was born, Aldrich was there to hold him and make love to him, tell him it was still alright, he was still Manfred, and Aldrich still loved him completely. Manfred's sources weren't on a par with Aldrich's vast intelligence network, of course, but he did have Uncle Friedrich and Aldrich's valet on the inside. So he was there just as much for Aldrich, clandestinely.

Gradually, patient sweet, politically brilliant Aldrich managed a détente with the mentally unstable Glynda, to the point that after over a hundred years of marriage, their only child Dietrich was born. Both men had rich lives, dear friends, rewarding work, children to raise. They met as lovers less, and as friends more. When Manfred married Cecilie, it hadn't felt like he was choosing Cecilie over Aldrich. He and Cecilie were both proponents of free love, and Glynda didn't really give a damn who Aldrich slept with, so long as it wasn't her. It hadn't seemed an issue if they kept up their liaison now and then.

That changed the night Glynda committed suicide after Aldrich at long last asked her for a divorce, two years ago.

Aldrich had no shortage of suitors – women came out of the woodwork trying to marry him. He was beautiful, popular, powerful, and vastly wealthy, and never lost his sweet trollish humility and charm – that he was known to be bisexual and part troll was no barrier at all in the aristocratic marriage market. He'd come very close to accepting Lady Kattrin von Wincott, a warm motherly woman older than Cecilie. But, Manfred… asked him not to. Asked him to wait. Suggested he take a break from marriage for a decade or so, get his head clear, not remarry on the rebound from the disaster with Glynda, give himself and Dietrich time to heal. So Lady Kattrin departed back to Wincott. But Manfred remained – back in Bielenfeld more and more, in fact.

I wasn't willing to give him up to Kattrin, he admitted to himself. I accepted that he wouldn't leave Glynda – until he did. But without Glynda in the equation… I kept him for me. Cecilie, Wolfram, I ought never to forgive myself for this. But the truth is, I made him put everyone else aside for me, and he's never complained. And now, there's only me, and I love him… I won't let him go. Whatever it takes. I'm sorry.

Manfred touched Aldrich's face, traced his lip. Aldrich's mouth was slightly open in sleep. Manfred couldn't resist pushing in a finger, pressing down a little on Aldrich's back teeth – a quirk of Aldrich's, it made him melt in lovemaking.

Aldrich roused a little and sucked his finger. Manfred thought he was still asleep until he said, "Gunna get you fwinger hut, Manfwed. Mm, no, don't take it out…" And Aldrich reached his handless arm around Manfred and pulled him tight for a deep kiss. "Nice… Can't sleep?"

"Don't talk," said Manfred. "Just let me make love to you."

Aldrich grinned, and flashed long-lashed green von Bielenfeld eyes, almost identical to Manfred's. "Afraid of troll gibberish?"

"No. I'm Aldrich's Manfred. My Aldrich talks better than me. I'd rather make love."

Don't leave me. Don't follow Adeldan and Franklin. Don't go to the trolls, Aldrich.

oOo

Cecilie's errands got cut remarkably short. When they tied up to Castle Bielenfeld's deluxe guest pier, amidst the miles of river piers that served the pleasure boats and agricultural powerhouse of Bielenfeld, the entire to-find roster was waiting for them at the dockhouse – Brendan Lord Gratz and his son Trenton, Aldrich's father Friedrich and son Dietrich von Bielenfeld, and Lord Everett von Wincott, regent of Wincott. Adelbert von Gratz was even there as a bonus.

Wolfram jumped off the yacht first to find out what was going on. Brendan sent Trenton and Dietrich aboard to 'help' the other children disembark. The men retired back into the dockhouse to talk, before Friedrich and Lord Wincott headed back downriver to Shin Makoku proper.

"We were expecting to spend half the day finding all of you," said Wolfram.

Brendan laughed. "No, Aldrich asked at least one of us to be here by midnight, though he didn't really expect you here til dawn. He didn't want to risk us all off hunting for each other in the dark. And the royal dockhouse is pretty comfortable, so we just spent the night down here." Indeed the von Bielenfeld family "dockhouse" was a mansion in its own right, carved of the same pinkish granite as the castle and most of prosperous Castletown.

Friedrich nodded. "You made good time – how goes it at Blood Pledge Castle?"

"Ah… fine?" said Wolfram. "Troll Mother arrived around 1 am… Aldrich… Chichiue asked me to hurry and get the children here and you and Lord Wincott back to him as fast as possible, because Aldrich 'might be entrolled'. He was acting… strange, when he spoke to Troll Mother. Childish, almost simple-minded."

Von Wincott frowned. "He shouldn't have been entrolled."

Friedrich nodded. "Well, he may have been acting, but he can look pretty silly just talking to trolls. Still, we should get going. Anything else we need to know?"

Wolfram folded his arms crossly. "You already seem to know a lot more than I do. I was told I was being sent on this adventure in babysitting to get the Krists out of Aldrich's hair, because Krists don't like trolls. And fetching you two was just a last minute tack-on errand from Chichiue."

"Ah, good! You have both Efram and Günter, then?" said Friedrich, peeking out the foyer window to look at the group disembarking.

"Your son's very thorough, as usual, Friedrich," applauded elderly von Wincott.

"My son…" complained Friedrich, sour yet pleased, "I'd say he's making me old. It's probably more accurate to say his hair-raising schemes keep me young."

Von Wincott and Brendan laughed. Brendan said, "Well, I can fill Wolfram in on the rest then. You'd best be going, Uncle, Lord Wincott."

"Contact us in one week, without fail?" confirmed Friedrich. "We won't be able to contact you at all?"

"Not if you don't know where we're going," agreed Brendan cheerfully, exchanging handclasps with both the older men. "See you on the other side."

oOo

Please review? I hope this chapter got a little clearer than the last? Sorry, it's a little tricky. Aldrich is the only one who really understands what's going on, and he's playing his cards awfully close to his chest, the schemer…