Kyou Kara Maou – Yuuri's Hot Date
Summary: Wolfram challenges Yuuri to have a date with a girl. Loosely part of my Epilogue story arc.
Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou of course.
Chapter 3 – Man of the People
Yuuri found his desk calendar pleasantly blank for the day, save for a 10 am briefing by his political advisor – one Wolfram von Bielenfeld – regarding the agenda for the upcoming Aristocrats' meeting. The hour came and went before Wolfram attained consciousness, but Yuuri didn't know that. By 10:30, he concluded that Wolfram had blown him off.
Fine! he said to himself. For two weeks, during a politically important ball and Aristocrat's meeting, I'm out both fiancé and political advisor, because he's too busy getting laid by everyone but me. Damn you to hell, Wolfram!
It occurred to him to wonder if he was also short one co-parent. But if so, Greta was his, and the other three were Wolfram's, and there was nothing to be done about it. He flinched at the thought of his darling baby Bertram, whom they adopted together at birth, as Wolfram's son instead of his own. But in truth, the child's name was Bertram von Bielenfeld. Efram was Wolfram's brother, not a fosterling at all. And as for their foster daughter Frieda, well, that was up to her father, Adelbert.
Putting those anguished thoughts firmly aside, he set off to find a cup of coffee and Adelbert or Ted von Trondheim, to get advice for his dressmaking expedition. He found all three together, as the older men were also taking a coffee break.
As Yuuri explained the advice he sought, the huge blue-haired general Ted gazed at him blankly. This was not unusual for Ted. But Adelbert also looked perplexed.
"So. How do I go about asking one of the dressmaker's girls to join me for dinner. Oh, at the castle? Or are there nice restaurants in town?"
"Mother's Cauldron is a nice restaurant," allowed Adelbert, grasping the one thread of this he felt confident answering. "You definitely don't want to invite her to the castle. Well, I mean, except… as a dressmaker."
Timidly, Ted added, "Sire, I'm not sure I understand the… operational objective. Why you're going to a dressmaker's, instead of, say, a brothel? There are a number of fine houses serving the town and military. Perhaps…" He trailed off as he registered that Yuuri looked offended.
"OK, no brothels," said Adelbert, bemused.
"No," said Yuuri quellingly. "I want to meet a nice girl and take her out to a fancy restaurant for pleasant conversation. To get to know her."
Ted said faintly, "A fancy restaurant? 'The Diabolical Newt' is a good fancy restaurant… Did you want a nice restaurant? Or a… fancy restaurant?"
Yuuri frowned, not understanding the distinction. "Ah… Well… how do I ask her to go to any restaurant with me?"
Ted didn't ordinarily resort to his native Trondish in front of non-speakers – it was rude. But in this case he made an exception. "/ Bert, do you understand what he's talking about? Is he trying to get laid, or buy a dress? Is the dress for the fancy restaurant? / "
Adelbert shrugged helplessly. "/ Conrad told me about some strange clothes Yuuri brought back for Wolfram to have sex in – a lace-up leather and chains thing, and a pink see-through thing with a feather snake. Maybe that's why the dressmaker? / "
Ted looked a bit alarmed at that. He switched back to the common speech. "Sire, we don't really understand what exactly it is that you're asking the dressmaker to do. And why you don't just… ask her to do it. Except, if you ask her the way you're asking us… she may be just as confused as we are. With respect. Sire."
Adelbert suggested, "Yuuri, perhaps you should bring Günter along with you. He is your protocol officer, after all."
Ted nodded vigorously.
"But – Günter's gay," objected Yuuri.
The three men stared at each other in mutual bafflement.
After a pause, Adelbert ventured, "Well… I could take you to a very open-minded brothel. Sire." He looked like he had serious doubts about his willingness to do that.
"Ah… perhaps another time," said Yuuri. "Well, thank you very much for your advice, gentlemen."
"Sorry we couldn't be more help, Sire," said Ted.
Perhaps… I didn't make myself understood, thought Yuuri, as he walked away.
"/ So… was he asking us because we're not gay? Surely he wasn't expecting us to join in? / " asked Ted.
"/ Wouldn't that make more sense if we were gay? / " replied Adelbert.
-oOo-
Lunch in town with Greta was a delight. Mindful of his dating goal, Yuuri practiced his date manners on his daughter, holding doors, pulling out chairs, ordering for them both, making good eye contact, paying her compliments, listening raptly to all she said. The restaurant's proprietor was rather taken aback when the king said he was having a romantic date with his daughter. But Yuuri had heeded some of Adelbert's advice, and brought Günter along. He smoothed everything over with the management.
When they entered the dress shop, Greta squealed in delight and ran into the shiny, glittering rows of sumptuous fabrics and notions.
An attractive and capable-looking young seamstress looked out into the storefront with a smile. She saw the Maou and Lord von Krist and two guards indoors and five waiting outside. She abruptly unsmiled, eyes wide, and vanished. A few minutes later, a considerably older and more distinguished woman emerged from the back.
She curtseyed deeply and stayed down there, eyes lowered, to address Yuuri. "I am Esmelda, proprietress of this shop, Your Majesty. How may we serve you?"
"Aha!" said Yuuri, embarrassed. "Ah, please rise, Dame Esmelda! I'm not here as Maou, I – This, ah, please meet my daughter, Greta. Greta is here to shop for her very first ball gown." He beamed a proud papa smile at his daugher, who curtseyed to Dame Esmelda.
When Yuuri had bid her rise, Esmelda began to do so. She froze again partway up, eyes widening, as he explained why he was here, glancing at the girl who was entirely too young for a ball gown! What is he thinking! Then she sighed and rose the rest of the way. "Of course, Sire. Perhaps we could send up some samples and designs to the castle…?"
Yuuri waved this offer away. "Oh, no need to trouble yourself! Haha! We can do all that here. Can't we?" This last was added in dawning suspicion that Dame Esmelda was not really appreciating his offer.
Greta took his arm and smiled at Esmelda. "Yuuri wanted to meet your dressmakers," she explained. "The Maou likes to get out and meet his people."
Sighing, Esmelda complied with His Majesty's whim, turning out all six of her seamstresses, aged 50 to 250, to explore rolls of cloth and ornate ball gown designs with Greta and the Maou. There being a ball that Friday, and suddenly a new dress to make, they'd be working a lot of late nights. But the Maou could hardly be refused.
"This one!" Greta cried in glee, looking over a design book, assisted by an attractive girl who looked to Yuuri's eyes to be around his own age. "This one even Cheri would envy!"
Yuuri looked at the design. Indeed, the design was risqué even by Cheri's exacting standards of sexy flamboyance. "Aha! Dame Esmelda…? Is this, quite…?"
Esmelda cleared her throat meaningfully at the younger seamstress and removed the book. "Deanna, this book is for a different clientele. Perhaps Greta would find… this suitable." Greta's face fell. The design Esmelda recommended didn't have nearly the cantilevered high cleavage and peekaboo length of thigh her choice had. Indeed it obscured the legs completely, though a little artful padding might still provide cleavage.
"It's all in the drape of the fabric and how it complements the complexion, Lady Greta," persuaded Esmelda. "Fortuna, please bring the rolls of… antique rose and bisque satin, I should think. And a royal lavender for a sash, of course. You'll see, my lady. Please come this way for a fitting…" And Esmelda guided Greta into the back to swathe and measure and cajole some more and with luck, stick a few pins into the little hoyden – purely by accident, of course.
Eventually Deanna emerged again bearing bolts of lace. "Sire, your lady daughter inquires whether you prefer the white or the bisque. For the gloves."
Deanna was careful not to let her doubts show about this… youth's… honor when it came to his so-called 'daughter', who was clearly more of an age to be his sister or lover. Which she feared was at the dreadful root of him putting her in a ball gown at this unseemly age. The seamstresses at Esmelda's expensive shop had a lot of time for gossip about their clientele – aristrocratic ladies, mistresses, and high-class prosititutes. Not that they saw much of a distinction between the three.
Yuuri had no opinion whatsoever on lace, but Deanna seemed less intimidated around him than the other girls. And he intended to get a date for tonight. So he smiled. "Which would you recommend? Which would make my daughter happiest?"
"Well, she prefers the white, Sire, for contrast with her complexion. But I really recommend the bisque. It will help unify the gloves with the rest of the ensemble." And costs four times as much.
"Ah! Well, I shall take your advice then. You're so knowledgeable, Mistress Deanna!"
I've been a seamstress for nearly a century, of course I'm knowledgeable. But Deanna smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Sire."
"Ah, Deanna," said Yuuri. "I, aha! I was wondering if you would be willing to join me this evening for dinner. Mother's Cauldron and the Diabolical Newt were recommended to me. Would either of those appeal to you?" I think that was smooth. Yeah, that was smooth enough…
"The Diabolical Newt?" Deanna repeated, dumbfounded.
"Excellent!" Yuuri said, mistaking this for assent. "The Diabolical Newt it is! Ah, perhaps 6 o'clock?"
Günter stepped forward to murmur,"Sire, 9 o'clock would be more appropriate for a fancy restaurant." He bowed himself backward.
Wow, that's late for supper. "Ah, 9 o'clock then. Shall we meet you here?"
Deanna curtseyed assent and withdrew, taking her lace with her. The Maou could hardly be refused.
Eventually, Yuuri departed, pleased to have made his daughter so happy. He hadn't intended to go back to the castle before dinner, but since dinner was to be so late, he escorted the victorious fifteen year old home.
And I didn't wimp out at all. I asked a girl out on a date, and she accepted! Take that, Wolfram von Boy-Whore!
Günter stayed behind to settle up and finalize arrangements for the evening and further fittings and final delivery. The tab for a rush job on a top class debutante ball gown, plus a super-rush job on fancy dress, was nothing short of astronomical. Günter was enraptured. His Majesty didn't stage romantic shows of pomp and extravagance nearly often enough.
-oOo-
By noon, enough of Wolfram's brain was functioning for him to remember his meeting with Yuuri at 10. Aside from explaining the intricacies posed by Kieran von Donaghie's marriage prospects, and the key points of contention between the Aristocrats this season, he needed to make sure Yuuri understood why Greta couldn't have a ball gown. The girl was growing up so fast, and growing wily under the influence of Annissina, Cecilie, and Efram. Yuuri needed to be prepared to withstand her cajolery. The other question… of what he'd… done last night… could wait. So he dressed and ventured forth, but found neither Yuuri nor Greta, nor anyone else willing to meet him in the eye. He would have loved to ask Günter or Yozak about last night, but couldn't find them. Bertram and Frieda were happily playing with their nanny when he peeked in, so he left them undisturbed before Bertram could spot him.
He passed Efram's room and overheard him being fitted for a new suit by his tailor. Wolfram knocked politely and entered. Efram, only recently elevated to the aristocracy, was glad enough of his help with the tailor's strange technical questions. Wolfram found the consultation soothing to his hangover and tense nerves.
"Did you want something, vixen?" Efram asked neutrally, pulling his clothes back on after the tailor left.
"I was looking for Yuuri, and… Do you know where he is?"
Efram briefly considered the current balance of payments between himself and Greta, and decided her credit was good. "They went to town for a father-daughter lunch."
Wolfram sighed. "I hope he doesn't do anything foolish about a ball gown." Efram didn't comment, and Wolfram had more pressing questions on his mind. "Hey, pixie… damn this is awkward. I, um, got really drunk last night..."
"You sure did," agreed Efram.
"Did… Yuuri say anything?"
"Nope."
Wolfram reflected sadly that Efram was really too young for him to ask his most burning question. Hopefully, no one would tell the boy such things.
"Finally decided to apologize to Yuuri?" asked Efram.
Wolfram looked up at him blankly. "Apologize? For…?"
"You are such an ass, vixen," spat Efram. "A contest to see who can get laid the most times? Breaking off your engagement?"
"What?" breathed Wolfram in horror.
"What what?" said Efram, then added in alarm, "Vixen, you look kinda green."
Several vomiting bouts later, Wolfram extracted what little the boy knew and departed, with heartfelt anguished apologies and entreaties never to drink. Efram considered the lecture entirely redundant given the state of his bedroom, and set off in disgust to find a maid to mop up. Wolfram retired to his borrowed bedroom to have a good cry and decide how to apologize to Yuuri.
-oOo-
Yuuri returned from lunch around 4 pm, to find Wolfram waiting for him in his office. He frowned and crossed to his desk. "Is there something I can do for you, Lord Wolfram?" he invited quellingly.
Wolfram rose and stood before his desk, head bowed, and gulped. "Yuuri, I'm sorry. I don't know why I said, whatever I said, last night. I don't know why I went to the baths last night. I drank, and drank, and was still passed out drunk, and slept through our meeting this morning. I… apologize. Abjectly. I don't know… what else to say." He swallowed. "I… hope you can forgive me."
"Fine. Forgiven," said Yuuri, curtly. "Will there be anything else, Lord Wolfram?"
Wolfram looked up at Yuuri's Maou-set face and Maou-judgment eyes and quailed. That was not forgiveness. That was dismissal. That was refusal to discuss the remotest possibility of forgiveness. Yuuri had never looked at him like that before. Yuuri never looked at anybody like that, except in Maou mode. His look was pure contempt. Wolfram had been judged and found devoid of merit.
"Yuuri," he breathed.
"I would prefer you address me as 'Sire' for the duration of our lapsed engagement, Lord Wolfram," Yuuri replied, eyes hard. "By the way, how's your score shaping up? I hear you worked the baths last night. I personally have decided to go for quality rather than quantity. You'll be pleased to hear I have a dinner date lined up for this evening."
"You…!" Wolfram gasped, looking at Yuuri in horror. "You…!" He fell to his knees, bowing his head. "Yuuri… Sire… what can I do? What can I say? To make this right?"
Yuuri's heart started to go out to Wolfram. Then he remembered. A torn bundle of rags, almost raped to death from his captivity in Mizrat. Holding him, confessing his love to him, putting him back together, putting all others aside for the rest of his life to be with Wolfram, deciding to raise children hand in hand, giving up his family and his homeworld to stay with him. This is not my Wolfram. I do not know this man who would toss me aside for two weeks on a whim and head for the baths to see how many times he could get laid.
"I was going to apologize to you," said Yuuri coldly. "Not that I'd done anything to apologize for. But I'd grovel anyway to have you back, to have everything well between us again. I hated it and was sure you'd despise me for it, but I would have done it anyway. Until I heard you'd gone to the baths last night. So. I asked you a question, Lord Wolfram. How many men did you score?"
"I – don't know," said Wolfram helplessly, tears flowing down his face. "Yuuri – Sire – what can I do? How can I put this right? Please, I don't want our engagement broken off. I don't want this stupid contest. I don't want anyone else but you."
"For five years I've stood by you. I've suffered your emotional attacks and fits of jealousy. This time you're going to learn your lesson, Lord Wolfram. Two weeks. So be it. You doubt my fidelity because I've never kissed a girl? I admit the thought had crossed my mind. You made this bed. Now you lie in it. And if we should get together again after the two weeks is up, you learn your lesson, and never, ever do this to me again."
Wolfram sobbed, "You really did want to find out what a girl was like."
"Yes, I guess I did. But I wouldn't have. For your sake. Aren't you happy you found out."
"No. I've never been more unhappy in my life," said Wolfram. "I don't know you!" He fled.
Having spent his rare wrath, Yuuri's nerves jittered and clanged. I was too rough. He's hurt. He might hurt himself… After three minutes, he couldn't take it any more and headed to find Wolfram, stopped, and sought Conrad instead. He was at his desk.
"Conrad," he said, closing the office door behind him gently, but not meeting Conrad's eye. "I need to to ask you a favor. Wolfram is hurting, hurting really badly. Because of what I said to him. He needs you. Could you please take care of him for me?"
Conrad searched his face in alarm. "Are you two going to stop this wager and restore your engagement?"
Yuuri shook his head. "Not… yet. Please, take good care of him for me."
-oOo-
Conrad rushed to find Wolfram, as terrified as Yuuri that Wolfram would harm himself. Long anguished minutes were wasted searching, until Efram led him to the room Wolfram had claimed. Efram was glued, back to the door, having no idea how to help his big brother, but unwilling to leave, as Conrad took the shattered, sobbing youth in his arms.
"You can't be here now, Efram," said Conrad softly. "Please help by sending a Kohi to find your father and our mother. I'll take of Wolfram, I promise." Efram nodded and escaped to do that.
After a long time, even with this great a sorrow, Wolfram sobbed himself out and they talked. "Conrad, I don't even know if I –" He gulped anguish.
"You don't know if you what?"
Sobbing coming back on, Wolfram buried his face in Conrad's jacket and said, "I don't even know if I did have sex with somebody else!"
"Oh, sweet one. I wish you'd found me earlier," Conrad crooned to him, stroking his back, smoothing the unruly sodden bangs off his forehead. "Yozak carried you back to your room last night. No one touched you. Yozak and Günter wouldn't have let them. You were too drunk for them to let you make a decision like that. They know what it would cost you. We love you, Wolfram. We watch out for you."
"Really?" he looked up hopefully. "You're sure?"
"Absolutely sure. Your virtue is intact."
"But my relationship with Yuuri is still over! My life is –"
"Shh, sweet one. Listen to me. Are you listening? Yuuri is the one who sent me here. Yuuri made me promise to take good care of you, to make sure you were safe. It's not over. He cares. He still loves you. He's just very, very angry. But you can work this out. I'm sure of it. Don't give up, Wolfram. If you love him, don't ever give up."
"He'll never forgive me!"
"He will. Yuuri can forgive anyone. This is Yuuri we're talking about."
Wolfram shook his head. "No. No, I didn't know that man! He wasn't Yuuri!"
"He was. Maou Yuuri is always inside our friend Yuuri, Wolfram. The sun comes out again. He smiles again. The cruel Maou who passes judgment, the kind man who loves everybody. They're both Yuuri. Trust him, Wolfram. Two weeks, maybe less. You can trust him, Wolfram. You didn't give your heart to the wrong man. Trust him."
Conrad didn't leave him that night. Even in the nursery, when Wolfram felt up to playing with Bertram and Frieda a little while, Conrad stood vigil. He'd trust Yuuri, and safeguard his baby brother, until Wolfram was safe with Yuuri again.
-oOo-
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