Yuuri didn't think he'd ever, ever try to plan a party again. All his subsequent treats for Wolfram would be nice and quiet and require no formal preparation whatsoever.
When he'd first brought it up, Yuuri had been mercilessly stared at. Gunter looked perplexed, Conrad shocked, and Gwendal disapproving. He'd been afraid to even explain why he wanted to throw a party for Gwendal's friends, but the plan had been saved by a passing Lady Celi. On overhearing the Maou's intentions (most likely intentionally eavesdropping), she had squealed, clapped her hands, and spun a perfect pirouette to toss the skirt of her flowing scarlet gown twirling around her knees.
Even more than Anissina, she knew how to make an entrance.
"A party! What an amazing idea! Oh, my, I'll have to get together a guest list and arrange for the hall to be decorated—Well, Dorcas can do that. But there's food and music and wardrobe to be attended to. It should be a masquerade! Yes, a masquerade ball!"
"I was thinking of a small sort of... dinner party?" Yuuri was exceedingly sorry he'd brought it up.
"Nonsense! You are the Maou and a gift to your fiancé should never be skimped upon! Now, should the masquerade have a theme? Dragons would certainly suit your Majesty. Maybe that's a smidge too complicated."
And, ultimately, Yuuri had to do very little himself. He'd seldom seen Lady Celi so content, rushing back and forth over the next two days squealing and ordering people around. What put him off even being proximate to party planning was the fact that all his trusty advisors blamed him (quite rightly) for the chaos, and being glared at all the time by Gwendal haunted his very dreams.
That, and the thought of having to do himself what Lady Celi had taken on horrified him. Admittedly, a meal for a few of Wolfram's friends would have been far less imposing to arrange, but when Yuuri saw Celi directing seven servants at once, he had to retreat before terror took him over entirely.
He spent a lot of time hiding in Wolfram's room as a result. When Greta was there, they all had fun. Or Wolfram tried to have fun and Yuuri did his best to bolster things while Greta enjoyed the attention. Stories were read, card-castles built, and birds fed at the windowsill. All very pleasant, and Yuuri found those times weren't even an excuse to avoid work, but rather a reason.
However, Greta found party planning amused her, and she'd taken to trailing Lady Celi like a very giggly shadow. Yuuri was often left lone with Wolfram. When his fiancé was awake and feeling fairly well, he would be lectured about etiquette, family history, how he should treat his fiancé, and the fact that he was being remiss in his duties as Maou. But when Wolfram was tired, in pain, or feeling dreamy, they usually just sat in silence. Yuuri would try to talk about things that interested him, like dragons and the rules of baseball, but Wolfram letting him have a word in edgewise meant Wolfram was too out of it to pay attention. And when they slipped into silence, Yuuri found himself having those disquieting thoughts again. Why should he care that Wolfram looked angelic in repose? ...Really, why? Because he did, and it was getting harder to deny.
Altogether, he preferred Wolfram to be asleep. That led him even faster down the path of undesired admiration, but he could, if he tried, pretend Wolfram wasn't there and read or daydream. That was nice.
Though the one time he'd decided to stretch out on the bed, after a very long history lesson from Gunter, and Wolfram had woken up, Yuuri had been traumatized for life by the pleased little purr and attempt to kiss him that ensued.
But now the night of the party had arrived and Yuuri had butterflies in his stomach. He'd really meant it to be a little get-together so Wolfram could have someone to talk to besides Yuuri and Greta. It had been a nice idea. Now it was... Well, damn, it was a ball.
And Yuuri was expected to wear the little cat mask Greta and Gwendal had made him. He was pretty sure that was Gwendal's revenge. That evil man.
There was one upside, though. For once, Yuuri was attending a formal event without his formal attire. He knew it looked kingly, but it just wasn't comfortable, physically or emotionally, to wear a giant rock and a section of carpet on his shoulder, and for all the talk of exquisite, giant gemstones and royal purple brocade, that was what they were. Rock and carpet.
Yuuri was wearing his usual attire, one of Gunter's careful replicas of his uniform. It was black, like the mask, so he thought it was a good idea. And the mask wasn't that bad, just an oval of black with little ears and whiskers.
It got a little worse when Greta ran up behind Yuuri and pinned a tail on his pants, giggling maniacally. She'd just been dressed in the next room by Doria, and was eager to show off her dragon costume. Anissina had found an old dress of her own that was the right shade of blue for Pochi, with sequins on it to suggest scales. That and a tiny scaled mask on an elegant stick had been about all Greta needed. Yuuri thought she had to be the cutest dragon ever seen in Shin Makoku, and by right of cuteness should get away with whatever she liked. He just didn't want to have a tail. But he couldn't tell her that.
Oh, hell, what was Wolfram going to say about that?
Yuuri picked Greta up and grinned at her, trying to keep his spirits up. She meowed at him and he tried not to sour again. She was just being his goofy little girl. He shouldn't be cranky with her just because he was wearing a ridiculous cat costume and felt like a total and complete idiot. Who wouldn't laugh?
There was a knock on the door. Greta jumped down and opened it. Conrad stood outside, looking entirely normal except that he was wearing a green coat. He smiled unabashedly at Yuuri's felinity. "Almost ready?"
"What are you dressed as?" Yuuri asked sulkily as Conrad admired Greta's costume profusely.
"Um, Gwendal. And he's dressed as me." Conrad easily ducked the pillow Yuuri flung at him. He bowed, admirably managing to keep it from being ironic. "I just wanted to make sure you were holding up. Mother's celebrations have a way of overtaking the best among us."
"I'm fine, but—"
"Conrad, that isn't fair! You have to have a good costume. And a mask. Lady Celi said the whole point of a masquerade is a mask." Greta held hers to her face and posed in a rather apt imitation of Lady Celi. "You must be properly attired for the ball."
Conrad looked a bit chastised, though he wasn't as tightly wound around Greta's little finger as his brothers. "I'm sure Mother has a few spares I can borrow if necessary."
"Then go do that! Right now!" Greta put both hands on Conrad's hip and shoved. He almost moved.
"Um, Conrad? One thing, before you go, um, find a proper mask." Yuuri wasn't sure how this was going to be received. "Just, when is Wolfram's birthday? Or was?"
Conrad managed to completely refrain from judgment. "The day after tomorrow, I believe."
"Oh." So that meant Yuuri had time. To not do anything if he knew what was good for him, apparently. But that was still time. "So, are we supposed to go downstairs any special time?"
"Well, you are the Maou. Festivities tend to begin at your behest."
Yuuri started to curse and bit his lip so as not to do it in front of Greta. He hated being the king sometimes. It became so irritating to have all these rituals relying on him. And a party was not a ritual. He was likely to be the most awkward person there, and the evening would carry on best without him.
"Right. Greta, want to go see if Wolfram is ready to go?" Yuuri hadn't, come to think of it, heard Wolfram's actual opinion on the party. They hadn't spoken of it. Every other subject had at least been touched on as Yuuri hid in Wolfram's room, but nothing had been said about this. Yuuri hoped he hadn't made the kind of mistake that would get him chased through the castle at swordpoint once his fiancé was up to it.
"Yay! Conrad, go get a mask." She put her hands on her hips and stood on her tiptoes, looking most severe.
"Yes, princess." He bowed so low his hair brushed the floor, and Conrad left with a wave. Yuuri took Greta's hand and led the way down the hall. He knocked on the door a little timidly.
"Who is it?"
"Greta and Yuuri!" She was bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet, eager to display her cotumse to her other father.
He wasn't sure. It seemed like there was a pause, but for all he knew, Wolfram hadn't meant it at all. "Come in."
Yuuri timidly opened the door and had to blink a few times to assure himself he wasn't dreaming. He also wasn't sure he liked the fact that he wasn't. Wolfram was undeniably resplendent, but so dazzling as to blind one. Literally. His clothes were cut the same as his usual attire. Wolfram's usual outfit was quite formal. But this was cloth of silver, lined with the darkest gray satin trim. Almost black. His mask matched, except rather than cloth it was solid silver, adorned with swirling abstract designs, set with smoky quartz.
Not for the first time, Yuuri felt very plain beside Wolfram.
"You look nice." Especially next to a cat. Though he did make a good pair with the tiny dragon who had run up and shouted "Shiny!"
Wolfram turned from the mirror he was shamelessly primping in. "I hope you don't find the color objectionable. Mother feels I'm entitled to dark gray as your fiancé, but I think it's rather forward of her."
"Oh, no, I like it." Out of the blue, he wondered exactly what rank was conferred on someone married to the Maou. "You make me look scruffy."
"Well, the mask used to be Mother's. And it helps that Gwendal didn't make any of this."
"Hey, Gwendal is getting better. Do you like my costume, Wolfram?" She pirouetted in precise imitation of Lady Celi. Greta was getting disturbingly good at portraying the former Maou.
Wolfram smiled and nodded. "What a wonderful dragon you make." He walked toward Yuuri. "Shall we head down?"
Yuuri tried not to look worried. Wolfram had been improving, but he wasn't completely better. He was clearly not comfortable walking on his own, but with his pride, he'd never carry the cane to the party. Wolfram would much rather hurt himself than be seen publicly as a weakling, in his own eyes. Certainly every party guest knew he'd jumped three stories and been stabbed with a poisoned knife, even if they didn't know he'd hurt his arm and suffered a slight concussion on top of it. They wouldn't care.
But Wolfram would never be persuaded. Yuuri sighed. He should just get used to this. He hooked his arm in Wolfram's, imitating the stately fashion in which he'd seen Lady Celi escorted. "I guess so."
Yuuri didn't know quite how to describe the sound Wolfram made. It was sort of a garbled "Eep!" He was going to hate himself for all this... this touching once Wolfram was well enough to make unwanted advances again. He was doing it for Wolfram's own good! Not because he wanted to!
Greta grabbed Yuuri's Yuuri's free hand, shattering what was about to become a very uncomfortable moment. "Yay! It's time for the ball! Anissina taught me to dance yesterday. First I'm gonna dance with Gwendal, and then Gunter, and then Wolfram, and then Yuuri—"
"I've been told I'm not a very good dancer."
"Yeah, Beatrice said. That's why I'm giving you time to practice."
"You'd better not be practicing with anyone but me," Wolfram said, his voice threateningly deadpan.
"Um… Can you really—"
"Yes, I can!" Wolfram snarled more menacingly than any wolf.
"But, Wolfram, your toes have already been crushed! They don't need more of it!"
Wolfram was surely about to say something truly scathing when Lady Celi appeared. "There are my guests of honor! Well, hurry up. Guests are arriving and they're all very impatient to meet with the Maou. For some, this is the first time they'll have met you!" She wrapped her arms around both Yuuri and Wolfram from behind. "Oh, Your Majesty, I've never seen anything cuter. Besides the princess, of course. And Wolfram does look divine. Come, down the stairs. Oh, I am atwitter!"
She was much scarier than Wolfram. Yuuri nodded, swallowed, and allowed himself to be led. They went slowly and Wolfram had no trouble with the stairs, leaning on Yuuri only the least little bit. He suspected Wolfram was also leaning on his mother, but certainly wouldn't have voiced that opinion.
The hall was fuller than Yuuri had ever seen it. What had happened to his quiet dinner? Ut had been such a wonderful idea in its original form. Now, according to Celi, everybody who was anybody in Shin Makoku was here.
"Wow! So many people!" Greta clapped her hands. "Where's Gwendal? He has to dance with me. Oh, it'll take forever to find him."
Yuuri was about to answer when he heard trumpets, and his name announced with all superfluous titles attached, "Shibuya Yuuri, Twenty-Seventh and Greatest Maou of Shin Makoku!" He blushed, slightly.
Why the cat costume?
Particularly, why the cat costume while linked by the arms to the radiant Wolfram? The rest of the room ranged from dazzling costumes on par with Wolfram's (though not one of them looked quite as good) to half-assed efforts like Yuuri's. Most fell in the middle, garish and odd-looking.
The music was loud, the mass of strangers overpowering, and the smell of wine, flowers, and too many bodies rather dizzying. Yuuri wanted to just retreat and bring Wolfram with him. Had this been a bad idea from the start, or had that begun when hijacked by Shin Makoku's premier socialite lunatic?
But he'd been announced, and, damn it, he was the Maou. The orphan-saving, artifact-finding, death defying magical adventures made this kind of thing worth it, but sometimes that was hard to keep in mind.
There was an immediate flow of guests toward the door Yuuri had walked in, all wanting to greet him deferentially. He saw a few familiar faces, and Gwendal (wearing a Spartan green mask that suited him fairly well) swept Greta up, so he didn't have to worry about her getting stepped on. Lady Flinn was there, smiling pleasantly, and Yuuri greeted her with sincere warmth. Stoffel and Raven made an appearance suffuse in warmth and insincerity, as usual, and Yuuri smiled. Most of the others, though, were near-strangers; Anissina's brother, the mayor of the nearest human village, several of Wolfram's compatriots, and more faces than he could begin to keep track of.
All the time Yuuri was greeting guests, Wolfram stood silent and regal beside him, exhibiting no more spirit than the wall hangings behind him. He did loosen up and chat with his friends a little, which kept Yuuri from really feeling miserable about this whole thing. But for the most part he just acted the part of the Maou's fiancé, charming and rather bland. This was supposed to be a treat for him.
The tide finally ebbed. Yuuri didn't know if he'd exchanged pleasantries with every guest or just most. He was, however, determined to get away from the doorway. He looked to Wolfram. "Should we go sit down for a while?" They'd been stuck there long enough that his feet hurt a little, though time was very hard to judge when caught in a hurricane of friendly but respectful small talk.
"I'm fine!" Why did Wolfram have to assume everything was about him? Yuuri gave up.
"Fine. What do you want to do?"
"The dance floor isn't very crowded." Wolfram had always taken a particular pleasure in dancing, something he hadn't been able to satisfy since Yuuri's proposal. He wasn't stupid enough to try anything complicated with several foot bones shattered like so much glass and a few fractures in the leg bones. He was well on his way, but there were still splints and bulky bandages on his legs for a reason.
Yuuri winced. He couldn't dance. And he did not want to dance with Wolfram. "I don't think—"
Wolfram set his hands on Yuuri's shoulders and leaned in so their noses were a mere hairsbreadth apart. "You'll dance with me or I will tell Lady Anissina that you let Gunter hide in your closet when she's after him."
Yuuri sighed. That was a potent threat. "Fine." Well, as soon as he stepped on one of Wolfram's toes, this would be over with. He let Wolfram lead him to the dance floor, where he spotted Greta dancing with Gunter. They looked happy, at least.
"Well, as I don't know how to do this—" Yuuri's last-ditch attempt to escape failed miserably as Wolfram took Yuuri's right hand and wrapped his left arm around the Maou's waist. Yuuri just stared, cheeks reddening already. Wolfram rolled his eyes, let go of the hand, and placed Yuuri's free arm over his own before taking it again.
"That must be the most basic position in all of dancing."
"Well, we never covered this in school," Yuuri said, petulantly. He was holding Wolfram's hand, being clutched around the waist, and their bodies were flush. There was no way this could possibly get worse. He was sweating a little bit as Wolfram slowly, gracefully despite his wounds, led Yuuri onto the floor to dance beside Gunter and Greta.
Yuuri blushed and looked everywhere but Wolfram's face, glittering mask and penetrating eyes. He occupied himself with smiling at Greta for a bit, and watching Gunter's face fall and brighten at the same time as he saw the Maou and his partner. That occupied him a little. But there seemed no end in sight. He guessed these songs were pretty long. Greta, had she stuck to her program, was only on her second dance.
One of the massive doors closed and the breeze blew a few stray locks of Wolfram's hair against Yuuri's cheek. He shivered and Wolfram looked away slightly. Yuuri finally found the courage to look his fiancé in the eye and realized Wolfram was nearly as flustered as Yuuri. His eyes were darting, his pale cheeks glowing with color, sweat beading along his hairline... Yuuri didn't know what to make of that, but somehow, he calmed down.
It was just a dance, after all. He'd danced with Beatrice.
"Pretty song. I like it." The words were just a little forced, but Yuuri actually did like the song, which helped him sound natural.
"It's a very old one. Composed by Lord Rance Eisen over a thousand years ago." Wolfram relaxed a bit, too. Or mostly relaxed. He was less tense, but Yuuri was fairly sure that Wolfram's grip on his hand had tightened. "It's called 'Parting at Morning.' This is only the instrumental, but song is a long ballad about two lovers reflecting on their situation. Very touching."
Yuuri couldn't help suspecting Wolfram of making a lot of that up. But he seemed happier when correcting Yuuri's ignorance, so he didn't argue. And this was easier while they talked, too. Yuuri could almost forget he was stuck dancing with a guy. They just talked as Wolfram guided his steps, and it was nice.
Yuuri thought the song might be drawing to a close. It seemed to have been going on forever. He was almost getting the hang of this dancing thing, too. But then Wolfram fell against him, almost knocking Yuuri over. He teetered a bit and found his footing by jamming his heel against Gunter's foot.
"Are you alright?" Wolfram had maintained the utmost grace. Yuuri hadn't seen the least sign he was getting worse. Maybe that was the problem. Wolfram had forced himself to the breaking point.
Wolfram, forehead pressed into Yuuri's shoulder, just whimpered, but a second later he snapped himself back to his feet. "I'm fine." And then he winced again.
"Wolfram, if you didn't already hurt yourself, you will in a moment. We're sitting down." The song ended, but Yuuri didn't pay attention. "Come on, get off your feet."
Wolfram would clearly have liked to argue, but he could see that his inability to support his own weight without obvious pain was losing him the argument. He just nodded, And Yuuri hooked his arm again, ready to lead the way back to the refreshment tables, where there were dozens of delicate little chairs.
"So I guess you can't dance with me, huh, Wolfram?" Greta sighed, peering up at them through her mask. "Well, next party you'll have to owe me."
"Or I could take his place, My Lady."
Yuuri whipped his head around at the unfamiliar voice. His eyes fell on a tall young man he was sure he'd never seen before. He was rather striking, with dark red hair swinging past his shoulders, brilliantly blue eyes, a tanned complexion, and strong features. That nose would have been too long, the cheekbones too high, on another face, but somehow looking chiseled made him resemble an artistic masterwork, not a sculpting student's mistake. His paramilitary garb was a familiar blue and gold, but the bulk was yellow and the trim blue, unlike Wolfram's clothes.
Wolfram made a gasping sound and went stiff beside Yuuri. The Maou immediately turned his attention to his fiancé, afraid he'd hurt himself again. Instead, he just looked stricken, like he'd seen a very unwelcome ghost.
"I'm sorry, but a lady only dances with friends and acquaintances," Greta said primly, holding her mask firmly in place. One had to wonder where she'd learned that. Certainly not Lady Celi. "I think I'll find Dorcas next, or see if Gwendal wants to dance again. Yuuri should look after Wolfram. Come on, Gunter, help me find someone!"
"I wouldn't mind partnering you again, princess. There's no one else lined up." Actually, Gunter had a line of admiring girls. Looks like his promoted that. But Greta was the only one he wouldn't find it reprehensible to dance with. Especially where His Majesty could see!
Wolfram figured that was settled. Wolfram continued to look like a cornered deer for a moment, then stiffly cleared his throat. "Is Mael here as well?"
"Of course. It wouldn't be fitting for the younger brother to make an appearance alone. Father is coming to visit soon. We thought we'd herald his arrival at the ball and make ourselves known. We've been tragically busy at home, so there's been no time to make our way in this court." The young man smiled, and it made Yuuri's blood run cold. Mostly because of Wolfram's reaction. The smile was perfectly charming, but few things charmed him less than his fiancé going pale and leaning against his shoulder as though defeated.
The man turned to Yuuri and bowed. "I am Maddox Bielefeld. I am honored to make the Maou's acquaintance and can claim no real excuse for not having done so before."
Wolfram's brother? Yuuri would never have imagined. He couldn't imagine two people looking less alike. "Well, um, the honor... is all mine." He'd forgotten exactly what he was supposed to say. "If you'll excuse me." He took several deliberate steps as quickly as he could without having to drag Wolfram.
Dorcas passed by. Yuuri grabbed his sleeve and hauled him between Maddox Bielefeld and himself, ignoring the indignant squawk. He should be used to this kind of thing by now.
He put most of his effort into getting Wolfram away. It wasn't easy, as Wolfram was not only in pain but acting like a zombie. He had to be steered as well as supported. Yuuri set him down on a chair, poured two glasses of wine, and passed onto to Wolfram. It would calm his nerves. Yuuri only took some for himself because he sort of liked the taste. He had yet to get used to the stuff as a drink, prevalent as it was in Shin Makoku and throughout the world. It still tasted like a novelty to the Japanese boy whose father had only seldom allowed him a little taste of saké.
Wolfram downed the glass in one gulp. He slowly stopped looking like he'd been slapped with a dead fish, but he still didn't look like himself.
"Are you alright?" Once again, a stupid question.
"No." He bit his lip. "Yuuri, you can't fall for their tricks. They're making another power grab. Why else pay attention to me all of a sudden? They'll be trying to use you directly, but through me. They already know I don't care about their selfish agenda."
"Alright." Yuuri was always opposed to royal power being misused and people trying to control him. Those tended to both be bad things. He had no issues promising that. "I'm glad you look like your mother."
Now where had that come from? Yuuri hadn't even known he was going to say it until his mouth opened.
Wolfram stared at him a moment, expression sliding from wretched to blank to soft in the space of a few seconds. He reached out and his hand covered Yuuri's for just a moment. "Right. You may be a pitiful excuse for a Maou, but you're better than that." He slipped his hand away, to Yuuri's relief.
That was relief, right, that slight rushing sensation in the pit of his stomach? Had to be. Or maybe that was the wine. The half a sip of wine.
"Let me know if you see Mael coming. I can't deal with them both in one night." Wolfram took a long sip from Yuuri's glass.
"Um, what does he look like?" Yuuri could watch out for ochre hair and height, but that wasn't much to go on. He thought about challenging Wolfram on the blatant drink theft, but decided it wasn't worth it.
"Exactly the same. They're twins. But Mael wears a half-length cloak clasped with the Bielefeld crest. Carved into turquoise."
"Alright." Twins? Two of those? Yuuri really didn't like the idea of that. He liked the effect on Wolfram even less. "Twins? Then how is he older?"
"I guess they wrote down who was born first. I think their mother even had trouble telling them apart. For all we know, we were just talking to Mael." Wolfram shook his head disgustedly. "One is bad enough."
"Oh, I agree." He also wondered how Wolfram had managed to down his entire glass of wine. Yuuri hadn't even seen him.
"Wonder where he is." Wolfram pushed himself to his feet, glancing around the room. It was horribly crowded, but some cruel sixth sense guided him to his oldest brother (on that side; Conrad had a decade on the twins). He frowned, seeing Mael fawned over by three girls in elaborate gowns.
Yuuri followed his gaze and sighed. This was bad. The last one attempting to gain power over Yuuri had almost caused a war, and these two didn't seem so amiable as Stoffel. They probably weren't going to turn into mere nuisances once Yuuri firmly rebuffed their power plays.
And he hadn't even met Wolfram's father. Something told him Lord Bielefeld would be imposing indeed.
"Don't even look. It'll just upset you."
"Kay."
That alarmed Yuuri slightly. Wolfram had just... agreed? And so informally. He turned and realized, from the number of glasses now on the arms of their chairs, that Wolfram had drained another glass of wine while Yuuri was mulling things over. Were his brothers really bothering him that much? Or was this a vice Yuuri hadn't had a chance to see before?
He wanted to tell Wolfram to slow down, but was terrified of the repercussions.
"And how are you two enjoying the party?" Lady Celi materialized behind them, leaning over the chairs.
"Um, it's fine." Yuuri was tempted to tell the truth, but he was too polite. And prudent.
Wolfram looked up at her. Somehow, he looked more vulnerable that Yuuri had ever seen him. Or at least a different kind of vulnerable. His only weapon in this battle was his mommy. "Mother, Mael and Maddox are here."
"Are they? My, it's been so very long. I really must catch up with them, see how Evert's been doing. Why, they owe us a thousand visits by now." There was something very malevolent about Lady Celi's bright smile. Yuuri smiled back. Unleashing her on the deserving was suddenly a pleasure.
She clicked away, her spiked, metal heels making as much noise as the musicians currently were.
"What's this song?" Yuuri just wanted to keep Wolfram occupied. Their conversation stretched over an hour, making it easier to ignore the roomful of people. Gunter came by to tell them Greta was going to bed, and Yuuri felt bad for leaving her alone. But she was very happy, smiling even as she fell asleep on Gunter's shoulder. And Wolfram had needed someone.
Yuuri wished he could go to bed. And he was starting to think it would be a good idea if Wolfram did. Yuuri had lost track of the drinks he'd had, but he was looking flushed and making less and less sense.
Finally, he decided he would. The party would do wonderfully without him. Everyone at the ball had mostly been ignoring him for a while. Unbeknownst to him, word of the Maou's gentle tending to his injured fiancé had gotten around, and the general consensus was to let the happy couple be.
"Wolfram, let's go. There's not really a reason to stay anymore." He wished he could find Gwendal to carry Wolfram. Much less risk of injury. But that was a humiliation even Yuuri wouldn't have liked to endure, and it would probably do permanent damage to Wolfram's pride.
"Hmm. You... Right." Wolfram languidly held out his arm and Yuuri pulled. Wolfram was yanked up and promptly fell against him with a pleased sigh. Yuuri failed to recoil, which surprised him. Maybe he was just more forgiving of a wounded, depressed, and very drunk Wolfram.
"Come on. Oh, you're not going to be happy in the morning, are you?" It was almost a sincere question. Yuuri was rather tragically naïve. He'd seen his father and once his brother on a few too many, but he didn't really know what to do about it.
"Yuuri." Wolfram's arm ran around his shoulders as Yuuri once again stationed himself around Wolfram's waist. "G-gonna fall."
"No, I've got you. You won't fall."
"Oh. ...Thanks." Wolfram's head tipped against Yuuri's shoulder. Once again he didn't mind that much. It was very hard to maneuver Wolfram across the floor, which was as crowded as ever. He saw Wolfram's brothers together and looked away before he could register what the looks on their faces might be. He didn't want to know. He couldn't deal with them right now.
The stairs… "Oh, this is going to be fun." Yuuri glared at the winding staircase. "Wolfram, you're going to have to work with me."
"Alright." He reached out, fumblingly, for the rail. "Not too hard."
"I'm glad you think so." Yuuri had no choice but to press closer to Wolfram to get him up each step, practically carrying him. That was fine until he felt Wolfram's fingers playing in his hair. That froze Yuuri for a few seconds. He couldn't get mad or move away or Wolfram was likely to fall. He tried to steel himself. It wasn't that bad, after all. Kind of tickled. It was almost nice.
Yuuri swallowed nervously. He must somehow be drunk off the fumes.
Wolfram's room wasn't far from the stairs, at least. Wolfram smiled when it came in sight. "We're almost there."
"Are you staying?" Wolfram blinked owlishly. Yuuri noticed his mask had fallen a little askew. "It's lonely without you."
"I'd better get back to Greta," Yuuri said too quickly, trying to pick up the pace a little. That didn't work. He really was close to carrying Wolfram by now.
"Can I sleep in your room?" The first time he'd ever asked permission.
"Giesela won't like it if you move." That might or might not have been true. Considering Wolfram's finger had just run down the shell of the Maou's ear (which made him shiver oddly), he did not want to face a night with a drunk Wolfram sleeping next to him. Yuuri opened the door.
Ah. A dilemma. Wolfram shouldn't sleep in those formal clothes. It wouldn't be at all comfortable, and they might be ruined. Yuuri wasn't sure, himself. But it was a good guess. He kicked the door closed. "Can you, um, undress?"
"Can you help?" Wolfram leaned more heavily on Yuuri and smiled.
Yuuri closed his eyes. Why? What had he done to deserve this? He'd been nicer than this selfish brat had ever deserved all night. He swallowed and undid the clasp on Wolfram's shirt. He breathed a sigh of relief. There was a thin undershirt beneath. The rest of the clasps came away neatly and Yuuri pulled the shirt off, praying Wolfram wouldn't remember this and wondering if there was a spell to make him forget it, too.
At least Wolfram seemed capable of taking care of his own pants. He could probably have dealt with the swordbelt in his sleep, with that warrior's mentality. Yuuri did help with the boots, shined and slender with just a little heel. He'd thought Wolfram seemed taller than usual. He suspected these might be Lady Celi's hand-me-downs, too.
Wolfram suddenly went pale. With a grunt, he lurched toward the bathroom. Yuuri, unsurprised by this development from Mr. Seasick, helped him along, not wanting him to stress his legs. Or not make it to the bathroom. Fortunately, they did. Someone who threw up as often as Wolfram had to have built up a little control.
And that was just disgusting. If this isn't love, I don't know what is. Yuuri pretended very hard he hadn't had that thought as he held Wolfram's hair back.
Yuuri got some water into him after that, remembering having to do the same for Shori after one of his rare nights out with an actual rather than simulated girl.
"Thank you." Wolfram leaned against the sink as Yuuri slowly pulled off his mask. The Maou set that on a cabinet and led Wolfram slowly back out into his room. "Yuuri…" His arm slid lower, and suddenly they were both holding each other around the waist. Yuuri took the last step and practically shoved Wolfram into bed.
"Yuuri…" There was a hint of a whine to his voice. Wolfram hadn't really let go. His hand was still on Yuuri's lower back. "Don't go." He leaned up slowly, trying to push himself up. Managing to drag Yuuri down a bit by sheer weight. Yuuri panicked and couldn't pull back. Wolfram's lips were an inch from his.
And then his eyes abruptly closed and he fell back against the pillow. Yuuri whipped nervous sweat from his forehead and waited for his heart to stop racing. Scary. He sighed fondly. Wolfram was such a brat, but there were moments of sweetness. However creepy, that had been heartfelt. Yuuri pulled a blanket over him.
And then he left. Sweet or not, creepy won out, and Greta needed someone to sleep with, anyway. Yuuri fell into bed gratefully. His last thought before sleep was the soft smile on Wolfram's face when he asked Yuuri to stay.
It was a guilty, if restful, night.