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.
Author's Note: Yikes! Reviewers were so worried about Wolfie, I put the next phase of his story into that last chapter, only to make it worse! I'm sorry! There will be a happy ending. Promise!
Chapter 4 – Fancy
Yuuri was subdued, walking down to town for his big date with the seamstress Deanna that night. Günter and the guards left him alone with his thoughts. Misgivings plagued him about leaving Wolfram to face the consequences of his actions, even in Conrad's care.
It's just a habit, he told himself. I'm in the habit of dropping everything and pandering to the spoiled little boy princess' every whim. That managed to revive his righteousness only momentarily. That isn't true. He'd drop everything for me as well. He would go to the ends of the earth for me, fight for me, die for me, do whatever I asked. And in all fairness, neither of us is much of a… panderer. We're just there for each other… as best friends…
My fiancé is not just my best friend. No one forced him to go to the baths last night! He chose to do that thing! And this is not the right way to prepare for a pleasant date with a nice girl!
Though he tried valiantly to train his thoughts on Deanna and a nice date, these thoughts spun in his head, on an express hamster wheel to nowhere. By the time they reached Dame Esmelda's dress shop, he wasn't so much excited about the date, as relieved to have some distraction – any distraction! – to get him out of himself.
His steps slowed as he registered that Dame Esmelda's entire staff stood waiting outside the shop in the cold night street, which was otherwise deserted at this hour. His misgivings intensified as he realized there were a couple extras standing there. Several were muffled in large cloaks. What are the feathery things they're holding?
Günter strode ahead of Yuuri's faltering steps and bowed to everyone, holding brief consultations. As Yuuri pulled up beside him, he bowed and held out an arm to indicate the extras. Who, like Esmelda and Deanna herself, bore… strange items. "Your Majesty, please let me introduce Miss Deanna's father, master blacksmith Mister Artur, her mother, master seamstress Dame Adrianna, and her elder brother, journeyman blacksmith Mister Andre. And of course you know Dame Esmelda and Miss Deanna."
Günter beamed while they all exchanged rather subdued Good evenings, then pressed on. "Dame Esmelda, do you have…?"
"Please, this way," bid Esmelda, leading them into the back of the shop. "You can change here." Yuuri noticed that all the other seamstresses – save Deanna – also flowed into the back of the shop, to the other room.
"Change?" inquired Yuuri urgently, though quietly, of his protocol officer.
"Of course, Your Majesty," said Günter. "We can hardly go to a fancy restaurant like this."
"Aha, Günter, what exactly is the distinction between a 'nice' restaurant and a 'fancy'…" Yuuri's voice died as Dame Esmelda's arm swooped to indicate costumes awaiting them. What the… Relative sizes and other clues resolved themselves to Yuuri's horrified eyes.
Günter clapped his hands in delight. "Ah! Dame Esmelda, they're exquisite! And on such short notice! I salute you, Madam!" And he bowed.
Yuuri, mouth still hanging open, poked his finger into a very large, very shiny red satin codpiece. Morgif, which for some reason Günter insisted he wear this evening 'to complete the ensemble', started to sing.
"Would His Majesty prefer an external…?" Esmelda inquired faintly.
Yuuri pictured himself walking down the street with a giant dildo bouncing up and down at his every step, "Shinou, no!" he breathed. "Aha! Ah, this will do nicely. Dame Esmelda. Ah, thank you." And he bowed to her curtseying her way out of the room to leave the two men to change.
I could call this whole thing off, Yuuri thought. Take her to another… No, I can't take her to another restaurant. Every normal restaurant is closed by now. Sweet Shinou! I made these people spend all afternoon making … There's nothing for it but to wear them and…
Hand over his mouth, Yuuri began to laugh. He laughed until tears came.
Günter beamed at him in return, delighted. "Oh, Your Majesty! I'm so glad you approve of the costumes!" Günter had already disrobed and put on his dress, a black and red sequined thing complete with ample padded bust and backside. He was sitting to draw on black fishnet stockings to attach to naughty red satin garters.
Yuuri wiped his eyes and applied himself to donning his own costume, which of course was a grotesquely exaggerated Demon King. The red satin bloomers featured padded backside and about four thick bootsocks attached inside, as a rather explicit form of codpiece. It came complete with pitchfork tail and a chain belt with life size handcuffs dangling off it, like charms on a charm bracelet. He needed Günter's help to tie on the padded red satin top, which mimicked six-pack abs, chest, shoulders, and arms to rival Adelbert's, or even giant Ted's. With hairy chest. There was no helmet, thankfully, but merely a domino-style mask that tied across the top half of his face with strings, of a large-nosed red demon face with feather horns, with further gilded feathers forming a crown on top.
Morgif sang. Günter hummed along at the mirror, putting on blood red lipstick before attaching fangs. Apparently he was some kind of lady vampire. He sat back to admire the effect, holding the domino mask in place for the moment – apparently they wouldn't walk down the street with those on – and sighed in contentment at the look. "Some red lipstick, Sire?" he offered.
Yuuri shook his head and laughed again. "Aw, what the hell. Sure, if you think it would go well."
"Oh, yes! And perhaps a little rouge. Your Majesty's skin tone is so gloriously robust!"
On the way out, muffled in cloaks, Yuuri glanced in at the workroom. What looked to be the remnants of a take-out supper and strong tea sat on a table. He noted sadly that two of the five women were hard at work stitching tiny gathers into Greta's rose and bisque and lavender satin. The other three were busy at other ballgowns the Maou's whims had put behind schedule.
-oOo-
Though their costumes were of substantially higher quality than most, the party fit in well at the Diabolical Newt, which of course Günter had alerted this afternoon of His Majesty Yuuri's imminent visit. They were escorted to a particularly creepy gallery festooned in black awfuls and skulls, overlooking the main dance floor of the nightclub, which pulsated hellfire and brimstone. The gallery provided an excellent view of their fellow diners' costumes.
Once they got to the restaurant and the cloaks came off, he found Deanna herself to be fetchingly arrayed as a mermaid, with opalescent scales on transparent gauzy green across arms and upper chest, above a heavier scaly material, exaggerated at the hips, slit high for freedom of movement, with added green and gold lamé flounces at the bottom, hinting a tail. Her domino dripped a few crepe streamers of seaweed. Her family and Esmelda, who had all accompanied them, sported only ornate dominoes for costumes. They sat with Günter at the only other table in the royally reserved gallery. The guards stood, sporting simple red masks with red feather horns, to indicate they were attached to Yuuri.
Somehow, Yuuri noted wryly, he'd accidentally chosen a fairly interesting place to take a seamstress on a date. Conversation was painfully stilted at first, as Yuuri attempted what he came to realize were taken for overly personal questions. But when allowed, Deanna cast a keen professional eye on all the other costumes. Once he let the conversation drift where it may, he learned a great deal about costuming. Of course, this was a topic that had no relevance whatsoever to his life, but it was interesting to catch glimpses of his subjects' lives when he could.
The food was thematic, of course. The deviled eggs were dressed as eyeballs, and large poultry limbs dripped tomato sauce blood. Once they'd had enough of that, they took a couple obligatory turns on the dance floor, with their entire retinue. The other patrons fled the dance floor when Yuuri entered, but Günter led the family to invite other guests to dance, so Yuuri wouldn't be dancing with Deanna alone. He noticed vampiress Günter invited the same elegant gentleman salamander to dance each time.
Around 11:30, Günter quietly suggested that it was time to depart. In the street, Deanna curtseyed, thanked Yuuri for a remarkable evening, and begged his leave. Apparently her family lived in the opposite direction, but she requested the guards accompany Esmelda back to her home above the shop, as it was very late indeed for a woman to be out wandering the streets alone. Günter dispatched two guards on this errand, and Yuuri's party headed home.
Yuuri hadn't suggested a second date. Although it turned out to be a fun evening, it was obvious that neither he nor Deanna had any wish for a repeat. He'd learned Deanna was actually a journeyman seamstress, age 140 or so. She and Esmelda's eldest daughter were the same age, so they'd traded shops for a few years. They were undecided as to whether to rejoin their own mothers' shops or go into business together when they became masters themselves. Her life and Yuuri's had absolutely nothing in common. And Yuuri was fine with that.
He'd love to take Wolfram and the older kids to the Diabolical Newt sometime, though.
"Günter," he asked thoughtfully, as they climbed the castle hill, "why was Deanna's family along tonight? And Esmelda? Just… chaperoning?" The other man was swishing a bit as he walked. Yuuri suspected he was having fun rubbing his fishnet stockings together. He himself found walking with the multi-sock codpiece strangely erotic, but not pressingly so.
Günter interrupted his happy humming – Morgif continued without him – to answer. "Well, Sire, if you wished Miss Deanna to become your mistress, it would be convenient to have all the parties to the transaction present, but… I suspect they were making a strong statement that Deanna wasn't open to a change of career." He resumed his humming in unconcern.
Yuuri stopped dead in his tracks for a moment.
"Hmm?" Günter inquired.
Yuuri resumed climbing the hill. Eventually, he said quietly, "It's not possible for me, as a king, to have a normal date with a normal girl, is it, Günter. If I got… physical… with, say, one of the castle maids, for example… what would happen?"
Günter shrugged in unconcern. "You may do whatever you wish, Sire. You are the Maou."
"I meant, what would happen to her?"
Günter waved a hand. "You needn't concern yourself with such things, Sire. Wolfram ought to handle them but… He finds such things… difficult, so… I would take of them." He resumed his humming with blood-red fang-festooned lips.
Yuuri walked some time in silence, aghast, and trying to formulate his next question. "To meet a girl on her own terms, without dishonoring her in any way… I would have to date only aristocrats. Is that right? Or… hire a… professional."
No wonder Adelbert and Ted didn't understand what on earth I was talking about. If I want a serious relationship, that's a negotiation with a fellow aristocrat. If I want to get laid, I should honestly hire a woman who is in that business. Asking any other woman, who might feel compelled to comply because I'm the king, would be despiccable.
"Well, yes, that's generally considered the honorable path. Fortunately, there is a ball on Friday. Many girls of our own class will be there. You'll be expected to dance with Lady Kieran von Donaghie, of course. And Greta. But you can dance with whomever else you wish. The Maou can hardly be refused."
"Are there… ramifications? To having a dance with an aristocrat?"
"A dance is but a dance, Your Majesty. Ah! Oh, I see! You fear your dinner with the seamstress this evening has damaged her reputation! Your Majesty is so kind and thoughtful! Fear not! No harm came to her of it. She simply has the memory of your magnificent company to treasure for the rest of her life!"
Yuuri smiled at his automatic image of Wolfram adding acid commentary to this statement. His smile faded as he recalled the strife between them, but it came back. Suddenly his uphill climb seemed to change to all downhill.
A dance at the ball. And that's enough. I could go back to Tokyo, date a girl on the terms I grew up with, but there's no point. I chose this world, and I stand by my choice. I chose Wolfram, and I stand by my choice. Difficult as it can be to stand by Wolfram at times… His face hardened at the thought of Wolfram willingly falling into another man's arms at the baths, kissing him, letting another man… Well, that's non-negotiable. He cannot do that ever again. But… I think I can get past it now.
All in all, a very successful evening, if not in any way that I intended it, he chuckled to himself. I did still have that niggling doubt that I was missing something, by choosing Wolfram. I don't doubt that anymore. And the Diabolical Newt was kinda fun. Maybe we should have a fancy dress ball at the castle sometime. Now I've got this classy red suit with codpiece and all.
His bedroom still loomed large and cold and empty in the wee hours of the morning when he returned. He stashed his demon king costume, put on his pajamas, and washed off his makeup. Still a little too keyed up to sleep, he wandered into the nursery, and toyed with Frieda and Bertram's gorgeous red-blond and green-blond curls without waking them.
Wimpue's home, little ones. He watched their chubby sweet faces in sleep for a long time before he felt sleepy and content enough to go back to face his own empty bed.
-oOo-
Kieran. Wolfram woke with that clear thought in the morning. That's why. That's why I freaked out on Yuuri and started this whole mess. Kieran. He closed his eyes in pain. If I'd just taken Efram up on his offer of a good cry and a backrub, instead of idiotically running off to the baths… I would have seen that the first night, and saved Yuuri and me a world of anguish…
He didn't stir too much in bed. Conrad lay sleeping beside him. His brother's completely relaxed slumber was misleading – if Wolfram made a move, Conrad would be awake and alert instantly. One could ask for no more potent watchdog. Wolfram smiled sadly. He always felt safest sleeping beside a man in bed. Not just any man, of course. One who loved him, one he could trust.
When he was little, he often climbed into bed with Conrad or Gwendal when he was frightened. His mother's bedroom scared him. There were so many different men. It made him anxious. But going to visit his father was best of all. Aldrich came to fetch him, because the trip was too hard for Manfred, physically and emotionally. He and Cecilie would fight, Wolfram would grow hysterical torn between them, Manfred would be in pain from the journey and his temper flare too easily, Conrad and Gwendal would get furious and over-protective. So instead, Aldrich came and took him to his father's cottage. Nobody fought with Aldrich.
The first night was always the best. Aldrich and Chichiue were so glad to see each other, and Chichiue was so glad to see Wolfram. And he'd cuddle into bed between the two lovers, and they'd tell him stories. Then he'd fall asleep listening to them talk softly, snuggled safe in between. They smelled so nice when they were warm and happy together, a spring green kind of smell. Aldrich said it was because his grandmother wasn't a demon. She was a special tree person who could talk to dragons. Wolfram wanted to talk to dragons, too. Chichiue and Aldrich were always so kind and loving and gentle with each other. It was so wildly different from the flashy dangerous games his mother played with her parade of lovers. He knew his father had other lovers he played those games with. But not when he had Wolfram visit, and Aldrich came to stay.
He was only twenty – about the equivalent of a human 6 year old - when the second baby basket appeared on Chichiue's dining room wall. Aldrich quietly asked Wolfram not to make a fuss about it, because it would make Chichiue very sad. Unlike the first, Wolfram's baby basket, made by a novice Manfred guiding Conrad's child hands, then crushed by hard wear carrying a baby around, his sister's was perfect. Chichiue had taken meticulous care weaving it, spent a long thoughtful time at it. Then he hung it directly on the wall, unused.
Chichiue said only that he was sorry he hadn't let Wolfram help. But his little sister had gone far away, and Wolfram would never meet her. So Wolfram had no promises to weave into her basket. He lied. For good reason.
He overheard her name that night, eavesdropping on Chichiue and Aldrich – Kieran. Wolfram never told anyone, not even Chichiue, that he knew his sister's name. And, obviously, he knew how old she was.
That was all he needed. Kieran's mother was Cecilie's elder first cousin, and Donaghie and Spitzweg shared a border. Lady von Donaghie died when Kieran was about twenty-five. He hadn't seen her since. But he met Kieran at a couple von Spitzweg family events before then.
Everyone laughed at how much they looked alike, and remarked how astonishingly well the 'Emeraude von Bielenfeld look' inherited, generation after generation. And it was true. Chichiue had it, though it was actually the Friedrich von Bielenfeld look in his case – Emeraude's one full brother. Emeraude and Friedrich were the two children of the mysterious tree lady who spoke to dragons. Emeraude was grandmother to Lady von Donaghie and Cecilie. But Friedrich was Chichiue's great-grandfather, and Chichiue had also inherited the look perfectly.
If one believes Chichiue is Friedrich's great-grandson and nephew, not his illegitimate son. I'm not sure I believe that myself. It certainly isn't how Kieran looks like me, after all.
Do you love me for me, Yuuri? Or for my looks? And if for my looks, would you rather they were on a girl? Do you love my looks in spite of the fact I'm a man? If so, your dreams are answered. For there is a female Wolfram, near enough. And although her… father… would prefer she marry a man to rule Donaghie… if Kieran set her heart on the Maou instead, fond old von Donaghie would never refuse her. His daughter means the world to him.
That's what I was thinking. Before I blew a fuse at Yuuri.
But what do I do now?
It was Thursday. Today Aldrich would come, a day early to prepare for tomorrow night's ball, Kieran's debut into aristocratic society, the opening of her auction on the aristocratic marriage market. Aldrich who smelled spring green when he was happy long ago… Wolfram assumed he still did. Aldrich his liege lord, Aldrich the marriage broker…
Aldrich the marriage counselor. It was a hobby of Aldrich's, helping aristocratic couples iron out their marital woes. Many made snide jokes about it. But they stopped joking when their own marriages hit the rocks. Then they fled to Aldrich to help them make the agony stop. He rarely brokered marriages – Kieran's betrothal, with an entire domain hanging in the balance, was an extraordinary situation, and Lord Donaghie was too infirm to do the job justice. But Aldrich often brokered miracles that saved people's marriages from falling into pits of misery and despair. Wolfram had seen it time and again.
Aldrich can help me figure out what to do. If he can spare time from… Kieran.
Wolfram cautiously snuggled closer to Conrad. His big brother stiffened just a moment, but Wolfram had calculated well, how to keep him from rousing. Neither of us smell happy green today. But he does make me feel safer.
-oOo-
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