A/N: Man, I'm so whipped right now. I'm up late working on a ton of projects, but I managed to dash off this chapter in the meantime. And oh yes, I forgot to mention this: I haven't fully watched Kyou Kara Maou yet. Yep. Never even finished the bit where (spoiler ahead in this sentence) Conrart 'goes over to the dark side', if I may quote Star Wars. So all the Shinou stuff in this fic is based on my own whatnot. Basically I just wrote whatever the heck I felt like. So sorry if the fic doesn't tie in with the anime.
Anyway, without further ado, I present to you Chapter Two.
Chapter Two: Patience, Prejudice, and Paradigm Shifts
The next morning, Yuuri was surprised by Wolfram's presence beside him at the table at breakfast. Wolfram's eyes were swollen, as though he'd either been crying or hadn't gotten enough sleep. "Ah… you okay, Wolfram?"
"I'm fine," the prince mumbled, not meeting his eye. Immediately Yuuri began scanning through his mind, trying to look for things that he could have done to make him mad. But he couldn't come up with anything. And besides, if Wolfram was angry, he would have started yelling and ranting, not sat there like a zombie.
"Hello," Murata said, entering with Conrart. He had just had a talk with him, explaining what had gone on last night. Conrart immediately understood, but the talk hadn't gone perfectly—that had been too much to hope for.
"I understand that my little brother and His Majesty don't always get along, and that Wolfram turns to you. But Great Sage, I would like to remind you of what sort of position Wolfram is in. He's Yuuri's fiancé. What you two did was highly improper."
"I know that it was." His odd tone caught Conrart's attention, and the soldier frowned.
"Do not hurt him, Great Sage."
Murata merely chuckled. "Hurt him? I could never hurt Wolfram." If anything, he's the one who has the power to hurt me.
Wolfram raised his eyes slowly as Murata seated himself on Yuuri's other side, just across him. He had woken up to find himself locked in a tight embrace with the Great Sage, and now he really didn't want to think about it. He was too self-conscious to be seeing him at the moment. "Good morning, Great Sage. Good morning, Lord Weller."
Neither of them had said anything about the odd position that they found themselves in. Murata had simply released Wolfram and murmured, "Good morning, Wolfram. That was…" He had hesitated. "I think I'm going to freshen up now."
That, plus his odd dreams, made Wolfram nervous about seeing the Great Sage at the moment.
Wolfram stood up. "I'm full. I think I'm going to training early."
Yuuri rose hastily after him. "Wait, Wolfram?"
Wolfram turned. "Yes?"
"Uh…" He glanced at the others. Günter and Gwendal stopped eating to look at them questioningly.
"I'm fine," Wolfram said again, this time sounding a bit exasperated. "If it's not too important, can we just talk later? I have to meet with Devon early."
Devon again. Yuuri suddenly wondered whether Wolfram had spent the night with the young cadet. Surely not…
Finally the Great Sage decided to break the sudden silence. "Hey Shibuya," Murata said with a weary sigh, pushing back his glasses. "You're aware that we're all wondering what's going on?" The others flinched, realizing that they had been avidly watching the two.
"Ah, it's nothing," Yuuri said, sinking back into his seat. "Nothing important. I was just wondering…" He paused, searching for the right excuse "Whether I could train with you and your soldiers today."
The prince frowned. "I thought that you had lessons with Günter."
Günter nodded vigorously from the other end of the table, sending his hair flying in all directions. "Yes, you do. I have a lovely new lesson all planned out for you today, Your Majesty! You really must not miss it."
Normally Wolfram would have jumped at the opportunity to 'get his wimp into shape', but today he was just reminding him about his lessons? "Oh," Yuuri said, sinking back into his chair. "All right, then."
Murata put down an apple core; evidently he had just finished polishing off the piece of fruit. And apparently that was all the breakfast the he required and wanted, because he started after the prince. "I'll go down with you, Wolfram. I'm done anyway. Coming along in a bit, Lord Weller?" He knew that Conrart's eyes were on him curiously, and had been ever since they had walked in and seen Wolfram acting so strangely. Maybe Lord Weller suspected something more than what he had told him last night. He hoped that he at least trusted him not to do anything to his younger brother.
"Ah, no. Jossak and I have something to do." He dropped his voice. "We're investigating something with the troops."
"Oh no," Wolfram said, halting. "Shinou… but that's impossible. Your troops are one hundred percent loyal."
"I know," Conrart agreed. "That's what makes it so difficult. It only takes one man, Wolfram."
"We can't ignore anything that's even the slightest bit suspicious," agreed Gwendal.
"What is it, anyway?"
Conrart shook his head. "We're not sure yet, but there's something in the air."
"So it's just a hunch, then," Wolfram said, looking relieved. "I'll tell you if I see anything different."
The second he and Murata had vanished, the others turned to look expectantly at Yuuri.
"What?" he protested.
"Thought that you could get out of lessons?" Conrart asked him with a smile. "Since you couldn't ask me, of course you asked Wolfram instead."
Yuuri shifted guiltily. "No," he said, for once being truthful.
"Wolfram, is something wrong?"
The prince flinched. "Ah, I'm sorry, Great Sage. I just… want to apologize for… whatever it was last night."
One of the maids bit back a giggle at hearing this as she passed by him. Murata took notice and tugged on Wolfram's arm. "Can we talk where we can't be overheard? The castle's full of eyes and ears, and I think that you would prefer last night's incident to remain private."
The Great Sage led him to a secret alcove that had never even noticed before. "I think I was having a nightmare," Wolfram said softly, putting a hand to his temple. "I guess it was really selfish of me, forcing you to handle me when I was such a wreck. I should have just pretended that nothing was wrong with Yuuri."
"You would have if you could have," Murata said matter-of-factly. "You couldn't. Even with all those strong emotions, you tried to rein them in as much as possible. I know that you do that everyday. Perhaps this one was too much."
Wolfram let out a sick moan. "I'm weak. And I'm sorry."
"Don't," Murata said. "It's not your fault, you know."
The two of them sat down on the cold stone floor, diffused light filtering through small slants in the walls. "I'm going to be late for practice," Wolfram murmured, shaking his head.
"They'll understand." Murata offered him a simple smile. "Those cadets of yours worship you. They won't mind if their beloved leader is late by a fifteen minutes or so. And besides, it's still pretty early. You have something like… oh, maybe half an hour. You really rushed through breakfast."
Wolfram let out a sigh. "Thank you." He let out a hollow laugh. "That wimp and I have been fighting on and off for the past few years, haven't we? It's driving me mad, and I'm pretty sure that I'm driving him mad."
"Shibuya can be a bit of an idiot," Murata acknowledged. "But don't give up on him just yet, Wolfram. I'm sure that he'll realize…eventually… how much you really do mean to him. Shinou knows that he's clueless now, but he'll see the light. You have to remember that he's been raised that way."
"And I have been patient for years. Maybe it's time that I gave it up, Great Sage."
"What would you do?"
Wolfram thought back to his dream. "I would die." Because in my heart of hearts, I know that that's really what Yuuri wants.
Murata held his breath. The simple way he said it, with quiet conviction… You do that, and I am going to kill Shibuya. To his horror, he realized that he had actually said that out loud.
"I believe that that's treason, even coming from you," Wolfram murmured. "It's okay. Everyone dies."
"I have to stop, Great Sage. I think that maybe…" He looked miserably down at his feet, hugging his knees to his chest. "Yuuri really doesn't love me. I was presumptuous to think that I could share his bed, when the reality was that he didn't even want me there. Günter was right. I was presumptuous to think that I could wrestle with a whole upbringing's worth of teachings that love between two men is wrong. I am, in the end, a very sorry example of a gentleman, aren't I?"
All the years that they had been engaged to each other, Yuuri had never bothered, even once, to allay any of Wolfram's suspicions and jealousies. He had never bothered to hide his disgust at the very idea of having the emerald-eyed demon for his consort; heck, even the mere mention of their engagement was enough to make the demon king grimace.
Well, given all that plus Yuuri's statement last night, it wasn't really surprising that Wolfram was feeling so depressed.
"Don't die, Wolfram. I'll… I'll find a way to make things work," Murata said.
"What does he need me for, Murata?"
The double black flinched at the terrible tone of voice. "You're his adviser, his friend—his fiancé."
Letting out a short, sarcastic laugh, Wolfram countered, "Gwendal and Conrart advise him much better than I ever will; you serve the purpose as his friend, and in any case, he's friends with pretty much everyone. And as for being his fiancé…"
"Conrart, I'm worried about Wolfram," Yuuri said, on the way to his lessons. Günter had finished eating as quickly as possible so that he could rush off to get all his materials ready for his 'surprise'.
"I wouldn't worry very much about it, Your Majesty. No doubt he's just focused on his troops right now."
Yuuri raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really? So… where was he, last night?"
Conrart shook his head. "I'm not sure, Your Majesty. It would be best if you asked Wolfram himself."
"You said that you looked for him last night."
"I saw him," Conrart confirmed. "However…" He hesitated. The Great Sage had taken him into confidence about the whole business, and it would be dishonorable to betray that trust. On the other hand, it was probably treasonous to hold back a secret from the king. And could he truly lie to Yuuri?
Yes, I can, he decided. For Wolfram's sake. "I saw him patrolling. He told me to be at ease. After that, I'm not sure."
"He wasn't acting like himself. I don't know why."
"Perhaps, Your Majesty, he's just distracted." It wasn't only for Wolfram's sake. He decided that it would be better if Yuuri really didn't know.
Yuuri shook his head. "Tell Günter that I'm not going to lessons today."
"Your Majesty…?"
"I'm… I'm sorry, but I really can't go today. I'm too worried."
"As you wish, Your Majesty," Conrart agreed reluctantly. There was nothing much that Günter could do anyway, in the face of Yuuri's direct wishes.
"As for being his fiancé? I think that Yuuri's already made that obvious," whispered Wolfram.
They were all jealous of him. Every single one—covetous eyes watched Wolfram wrap his arms around Devon, the chosen one. "Like that," the prince ordered him. The other soldiers were so obviously staring resentfully that Murata was surprised that Wolfram didn't notice. "You have to keep up, Devon."
"Yes, Lord von Bielefeld," Devon said automatically. Murata wondered whether that was the only sentence that he could say properly. It was rare that he heard anything else come out of the cadet's mouth.
Wolfram caught his eye with a small smile, but then his gaze shifted to Murata's side and he dropped his gaze immediately.
Murata glanced at Yuuri. "Uh… Shibuya, I know that you've been sitting there for the past fifteen minutes or so, and it's really not my place to question your authority… but are you here just to escape Günter?"
"No," Yuuri said, watching Wolfram just as intently as the cadets.
Günter was actually bothering Gwendal up in the castle, upset this 'His Wonderful Majesty' hadn't seen fit to attend lessons that day. He had better things to do.
"I think something's wrong with Wolfram," Yuuri explained.
Murata shrugged. "It could be just about anything," he said. He looked hard at Yuuri. "Maybe he's just feeling stressed out. You should really cut him some slack, Shibuya. He has all his duties… on top of training that new recruit, Devon… plus he's been patrolling the halls, as of late."
"Conrart told me that he was off patrolling last night. He didn't even tell me," Yuuri said in an injured tone.
"I didn't really think that it mattered to you one way or another. After all, you're used to having Conrart and Gwendal patrol the halls at night. And I thought that you preferred having your own room. Shouldn't you be off giving thanks instead of complaining and asking for explanations?"
Giving thanks? Murata's smile was ironic. Yuuri didn't even know what it was like, to have the blonde prince beside him, to listen to his breathing at night, to hear the soft, dreamy whispers and to inhale the scent that was simply Wolfram—like flame and lemons.
"Well… I guess I just sort of got used to having him around."
Murata's jaw clenched. "Is that so…? Perhaps you've been taking him for granted."
"This isn't about last night again, is it?" Yuuri said, suddenly exasperated. "You aren't going on about that still, are you?"
"Has anything changed?"
The king hesitated. "No, not a bit," the double black demon said forcefully. Murata could see the corners of Wolfram's mouth turning down, his grip on his sword becoming slack. The prince had rather uncommonly good hearing, and he winced when he realized that Wolfram had heard them.
"We're done for the day," Wolfram said abruptly, halting the training. "I'll leave you to practice by yourselves, if you wish to. I… have other things to attend to." He ignored their surprise. Usually he dismissed them after at least another hour or so.
Murata was by him in a flash, followed closely by Yuuri. Still, he managed to whisper a quick word into Wolfram's ear before the king could hear them. "I do not think that what you're doing is very prudent, Wolfram. Shibuya's already noticed that something's wrong."
Wolfram blanched. "Devon, I'm going to give you more private lessons," he added quickly, just as Yuuri was about to say something. "The rest of you carry on, all right?"
"Hey Wolf…" Yuuri said, his voice inadvertently turning into something of a whine.
"Gwendal has some papers for you to sign," Conrart then opined. He had been standing there silently for quite a while now; Jossak had told him to keep an eye on the peculiar love triangle and leave the investigation to him. After all, while a problem in the army would mean a slight disturbance in their military power, having the King, the future Queen and the Great Sage involved in a romantic entanglement could have irreversible consequences on the kingdom.
Papers? Yuuri scowled. "Fine, fine," he grumbled. He glanced back at his fiancé. "Can't it wait until later, Conrart?"
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I believe that Gwendal would take a rather dim view of that."
"Günter's already upset with you as it is," Wolfram added. "I still don't understand why you had to attend to some 'important business' down here, when it's fairly obvious that all you've been doing is sitting there." His tone was sarcastic, even bitter.
Yuuri paled. "Are you mad at me or something?"
"I think that it falls into the category of 'or something', because I'm not mad at you," Wolfram said.
"You're not… upset, or anything?"
Wolfram held up a hand, as though to ward off his concern. "I just have a headache." True enough… "I'll be fine."
"Then why don't you go to Gisela?" Yuuri demanded.
The soldier in Wolfram stiffened at the thought of having to go to the healer. To him, healers were for nasty wounds that pushed one to the edge of death. Gisela was not for headaches and heartaches. "I don't need it."
Devon shifted from one foot to another, obviously uncomfortable. The other cadets had also stopped their practice to watch the little tirade between His Majesty and their beloved prince. If they were asked to support one or the other, there was no doubt of who they would choose. Murata hastily intervened.
"Shibuya, I'll attend to Wolfram if there's any trouble. There's no need to disturb Gisela. Why don't you just let him continue his practice with Devon?"
Yuuri's frown deepened. "Fine," he said darkly. Conrart trailing at his heels, he marched back up to the castle.
"That was… weird," whispered one of the cadets. "His Majesty seemed angry with Lord von Bielefeld."
Wolfram's perfect posture seemed to slump as soon as the king was out of sight. "Excuse me, Devon. Could we postpone that training until later tonight?"
"Y… yes, Lord von Bielefeld."
"Wolfram," Murata said quietly, taking the young blonde's arm. "How about we go for a walk?"
"Okay," the demon said meekly.
It began when he was three years old. He could easily have been mistaken for a girl, with his dark pigtails and dressed in the frilly frocks that his mother loved to choose for him. It was that talk, with his father and mother.
"Honey, he's not a girl!"
Yuuri hid behind the door, wondering what they were talking about. His mother merely folded her arms across her chest stubbornly. "I don't see what's wrong with it."
"It's… it's sick, and perverted. What if he grows up to be… well, you know!" his father sputtered out, his cheeks turning an angry shade of red. "Doesn't it worry you even a little bit? I don't want my son to become a…"
"A what, exactly?"
"A gay!" his father replied hotly. Yuuri had never seen his father so irate. As though his father could hear his thoughts, the man suddenly seemed to deflate. "Look, darling, you know that I love Yuuri very much. But I can't comprehend or even begin to accept the idea that… well…"
"That he might fall in love with men."
"Yes."
That was the beginning of Yuuri's change.
His father bought him closets full of pants and shirts; encouraged him to play baseball and other sports; made sure that he stuck close to him whenever possible so that he would have a 'manly' influence on him; and last but not least, lopped off those ridiculous pigtails and gave him a typical boy's cut.
His mother had grieved over the loss of the chubby, adorable, cross-dressing little child that her Yuuri had been, but neither Yuuri nor his father had complained.
All Yuuri knew, in his little toddler mind, was that he didn't want to see his father so angry, ever again. Didn't want to hear the disappointment and disgust that had tinged his words. And somehow he connected all that with the mere hint of homosexuality.
Today, nothing had changed.
"Your Majesty, are you finished signing those papers?" Conrart asked tentatively, breaking his reverie. "Gwendal and Günter need those by tonight."
"Conrart, I'm so tired of all this," groaned Yuuri.
Conrart sighed. "Perhaps it would be best if you took a break, then. Want to play some baseball?"
"No. I want to go see Wolf."
"I'm sure he's busy," Conrart said cautiously. He wondered at the sudden change in the young king. Just two days ago, he would have likely jumped at the chance to play baseball, and probably protested at the very idea of going to see his fiancé. Today, however, was completely different. He didn't know whether to be glad or appalled. "And you are as well, Your Majesty. You might lose track of time if you went to see Wolfram now."
Wolfram, on the other hand, was in the garden with Murata.
Murata's eyes followed the graceful blonde as he moved through the air, his eyes fixed on a point that the Great Sage could not see. When he practiced with his fire maryoku, it was like he was dancing. Beautiful. And it wasn't that he was a pyromaniac or anything, but the flames fascinated him.
"Wonderful," he said as Wolfram finished. The prince seemed much calmer now that he had just exerted a good portion of his powers on practicing his magic. The flush in his cheeks and the sparkle in his eye gave the Great Sage heart.
He wondered, a little bit, whether he loved Wolfram simply because he looked so very, very much like Shinou, although he had to admit that the prince was a lot skinnier and less muscled, not to mention more hot-tempered—and there was the fact that Shinou had violet eyes while Wolfram had green ones. Emeralds and amethysts. But he recognized the similarities between the two; so stubborn and proud, so handsome and determined.
When Murata smiled at him, all that Wolfram could think about was why doesn't Yuuri ever smile at me like that? As though Wolfram's mere presence made the Great Sage happy. Wolfram's heart constricted at the very thought of it. Sweet Shinou, what was he thinking now? His mind was still muddled from his excessive emotions…
Murata was puzzled by the brief expression in the prince's eyes when he had looked at him. Shinou, this temptation was unbearable. "Are you all right now?"
"I'm fine." Wolfram let out a harsh bark of laughter. "I've just made a resolution."
"A… a resolution?"
"That's right," he confirmed, pacing as his mind formulated plans. "I'm going to change. I'm… I'm going to control my temper. Be a better Wolfram, that's all. Gwendal and Günter always said that I should grow up. Maybe it's about time that I did."
Murata stared at him. "When you say change… how?"
Wolfram shrugged. "I don't know yet. But I'll try."
The Great Sage was appalled. "Wolf, you're willing to change yourself just for Shibuya's sake?"
"Yes, I am."
Yuuri stopped signing papers again, even though he knew that the sooner he was finished the sooner he would get to see his fiancé. He wanted to get to the bottom of that mystery as soon as possible, but not at the cost of tiring his hand out and feeling his brain go numb. Instead, he glanced out the window.
Right where Murata and Wolfram were talking.
Yuuri squinted. Although he recognized his fiancé's distinct blue uniform, he couldn't quite make out who was with him, because whoever it was, he was in the shadows while the light glinted off Wolfram's golden hair. Probably that Devon again, he mused.
"That's insane!" Murata argued. "Yuuri does care for you, in his own fashion—"
"As a USELESS, WHINY BRAT!"
Murata wrapped his arms around him. "Don't do this, Wolf."
"Why NOT?" The prince was close to tears.
"Because…" His breath was so warm against his neck. Murata hazily realized that he very much liked the smell of Wolfram's hair. That he had never felt quite this way about Shinou, no matter how grand they proclaimed their passion was. "Because then you wouldn't be you, Wolfram. And I would hate that." You are not Shinou. You are only you, Wolfram von Bielefeld.
Yuuri tore his eyes away from the sight of his fiancé locked in someone else's embrace—yes, it had to be that Devon person. With a low cry of disgust, he decided to pretend that he hadn't seen anything.
There it was again; that odd, strained silence around the dining table. As though this morning's three-ring circus of weirdness hadn't been enough at breakfast, they were now reduced to the barely audible clink of their sporks against the fine china. Yuuri was glowering at Wolfram for some strange reason; Wolfram, after a few initial, bewildered glances at the king's direction, had seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and spent the rest of the night staring at his plate. In the suffocating hush that permeated the room, Gwendal and Conrart exchanged wary looks. Something was up.
Conrart wanted to tell Gwendal that Yuuri had been, for some unfathomable motive, moody and sulky in the middle of signing papers. He wondered if it was because he refused to take the king to see Wolfram. Perhaps, perhaps not; surely he wouldn't have overreacted in this manner, if that were it. Gwendal said nothing, merely pursed his lips and continued eating as though nothing was the matter.
It was a pity that Günter wasn't here, because he could at least have defused the situation with his ridiculous antics; but unfortunately, Anissina had managed to get him to agree to some sort of experiment. Anissina would have been useful too… Conrart sighed. And Greta had fallen asleep already, exhausted from a long day of gardening with his mother.
"I'm finished," Wolfram said in a subdued voice. "I have some things to check before I turn in, so if you'll excuse me…"
"Things to check?" Yuuri suddenly interrupted. "Like what?"
The suspicious tone made the others stare, but Yuuri ignored them. "The usual," Wolfram replied, now looking very, very confused indeed. "Of course the swords and all that, and I thought that I'd talk to my men before turning in." He shrugged. "I occasionally join in on their fun."
Yeah, I'll bet, Yuuri thought. Wolfram blinked at him through long-lashed eyes. "So… can I go now?" he said, as though to say, 'is this interrogation over yet or what?'
And really, there was no way that he could object, not unless he wanted to bring up what he'd just seen. And if he did that, he would have to admit that it bothered him; and he wasn't prepared to say that, because he didn't know why. "Yeah," Yuuri said wearily, turning his attention back to his food.
Inwardly, Wolfram was irritated and hurt. What had he done wrong this time? Yuuri had been giving him looks of flaming death ever since he'd sat down. It only made him more determined to control himself. The Great Sage had been mistaken; he could be Wolfram von Bielefeld even without his famous—or perhaps infamous—temper. And even if he wasn't exactly 'himself', what did it matter?
"Not too much alcohol, Wolfram," was Gwendal's only caution.
Wolfram shrugged. "Don't worry, brother, I'll try to control myself." Much as he hated to admit it, there had been times when he'd just gotten flat-out drunk; times when he lost control of his emotions and decided to drown it in the uncommonly fine wine that they served to his soldiers. He hated the feeling of losing control of himself, but there were moments when all he wanted to do was stop thinking so much.
"Isn't he a bit… you know… young to be having alcohol?" Yuuri said, disapproval evident in his tone.
The blonde prince bit back a retort of, "I'm a few decades away from a hundred already, so mind your own business!" Instead, he shrugged. "I think I'm capable of handling myself. Besides, my men won't let anything bad happen to me." With a bow, he exited.
"We've gone drinking before, Shibuya," Murata said softly. "Shori's birthday last year, remember? And I seem to recall that a certain someone got smashed and decided to dance on the table without his shirt on."
Biting back the smile that threatened to spill over on his face, Conrart hastily coughed as Yuuri's cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet. "That was different. It was my brother's birthday."
Gwendal put down his spork. "I wouldn't concern myself if I were you, Your Majesty," he said, sounding slightly condescending. "Wolfram's used to wine anyway; he's grown up drinking it, like the rest of us."
"Mother said that the ruby redness of the wine made his eyes look even greener," Conrart said with a laugh. "If you're really worried, Your Majesty, I'll join them. But I don't think that Wolfram would appreciate it—and neither does he need it."
"He would lose a lot of face in front of his soldiers if it appeared that he needed his older brother to babysit him," Murata warned. "And no, you can't go either, Shibuya."
What was the Great Sage anyway, some kind of damned mind reader? "I wasn't planning to," Yuuri lied.
Murata shrugged. "As you will."
The King hesitated. "Murata, maybe you could go?"
"I assure you that Wolfram doesn't need the supervision," Gwendal said.
"But it would be a load off my mind," Yuuri pointed out.
Murata shrugged again, as though he didn't care one way or another. "Sure, why not? I have nothing better to do."
Wolfram, in fact, was already on his fourth goblet of wine when Murata had gotten to them. "What're you doing here?" he asked, surprised. "I thought that you were still finishing dinner with Yuuri."
"I don't take an hour just eating," Murata said pleasantly. "And besides that, Yuuri asked me to keep an eye on you while you were here."
The prince's cheeks flushed. "Oh, is that so?"
"Don't get mad, Wolf. Aren't you glad that he's showing concern for your wellbeing?"
"I'm not a child," Wolfram said stubbornly.
Murata held up his hands in surrender. "We know. But Yuuri worries about you sometimes." He smiled at the demon's obvious chagrin. "I'll just… stay out of your way, if you like."
"It isn't your fault," Wolfram replied. "You may as well enjoy the little party we have going on here."
The 'party' actually consisted of some laughing, slightly drunken blonde soldiers; a few were playing cards, being cheered by their comrades; a couple of others were arm-wrestling, and Murata resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose at them. Most, however, were simply talking and drinking.
He noticed one of the cadets watching him and Wolfram. "Oh look. They're undressing you with their eyes," he whispered into the prince's ear. He grinned mischievously when he was rewarded by the beautiful blush that spread across Wolfram's cheeks like the glowing of the sunset.
"Crude pervert," Wolfram snapped back tartly, trying with frantic failure to hide the redness of his face. He downed another goblet of wine. "How you got to be the Great Sage, I'll never know."
"Luck, my dear prince. A trick of fate."
On that enigmatic note he sidled away, aware that there were others who wished to talk to Wolfram. The second he left the prince's side, the demon was swamped by his soldiers. Murata took in the sight with amusement. To see all this and still be completely clueless that your men were in love with you? It was adorable, in a way, and so naïve; a bit like the part of Yuuri that Wolfram had come to love.
"Heh. Maybe I'm the one who needs a drink," he murmured, feeling uncharacteristically melancholy. He tapped a cadet on the shoulder, and he was instantly given his own cup of wine.
"It's quite an honor to have you here, Great Sage," the boy said respectfully.
"Thank you. The pleasure's really all mine."
The boy's eyebrows went up. "Although, of course, we can't help wondering why His Majesty never seems to come along. He's usually reluctant about accompanying Lord von Bielefeld anywhere." Murata understood the implication: Obviously, His Majesty doesn't care much about our Lord. "We're really grateful to you for taking such great care of Lord von Bielefeld."
"Wolfram's lucky to have such loyal men," Murata replied. He noticed one particularly drunk soldier weaving his way over to Wolfram.
"Lord von Bielefeld, I love you!"
Wolfram looked momentarily nonplussed. "Andrew, I think you should lay off the wine now."
The others laughed nervously as Andrew shook his head. "It's not just about the wine, Lord von Bielefeld. We've all loved you the moment we laid eyes on you!"
"Oh dear," Murata sighed, as all of Wolfram's guards suddenly blushed from the roots of their hair down to their toes.
"I'm flattered," Wolfram said steadily. "But as you know, I'm already engaged."
"But His Majesty doesn't love you," Andrew slurred. The other soldiers were on their feet in an instant.
"That's enough, Andrew!" the one Murata had been speaking to was suddenly stalking over to his fellow cadet and grabbing him by the arm. He dragged the other man anyway, looking furious.
"But it's true!" yelled Andrew persistently, still slurring his words, his head drooping dizzily. "Everybody knows… what a waste, for Lord von Bielefeld to keep throwing himself at a stupid man who isn't half as courageous or noble as he is… a stupid man who shouldn't have been king at all… a stupid man who barely even deigns to recognize his engagement to our prince!" At this last statement, the boy dragging him along gave him a karate chop to the neck, and Andrew was unconscious.
Wolfram stood there rigidly. "Lord von Bielefeld, we're so sorry about this… this horrible misunderstanding," one apologized. "Andrew's a fine soldier. He just had a little too much to drink. We'll talk to him about this tomorrow. Please don't be too hard on him."
"Of course not. I won't hold a man responsible for what he believes to be the truth. I know that Andrew would never have said any of that if he had been sober. At ease, cadets." Wolfram grabbed another cup of wine. "There's really no reason for any of you to apologize."
The party proceeded, but there was an air of unease. Wolfram ignored it, continuously refilling his goblet and chatting with his soldiers. He refused to think about the whole Yuuri situation.
But really, his own cadets knew. What was it that Andrew said? Everybody knows. He swallowed hard. Barely even deigns to recognize his engagement to our prince. It was the truth. His hand shook slightly when he brought another cup to his lips.
"Out of curiosity, how much does Wolfram have to drink before he starts getting drunk?" Murata asked a soldier.
The soldier took a good, long look at Wolfram. "I think that he already is."
Murata's eyes widened. He had been watching the prince without really focusing on his actual reason for being here. Swearing under his breath, he stalked over to Wolfram's side.
"Better stop now, Wolfram," he said.
The prince's eyes had turned more liquid than usual, brighter, and more than a little unfocused—like two emerald pinpricks in the sky. "Okay," he murmured, leaning against Murata with a sigh, spilling a little wine on his shirt as he put his goblet down with a trembling hand. Murata was surprised by his immediate compliance and realized that Wolfram's mind was too soaked in alcohol to let the prince form any coherent argument.
The cadet whom Wolfram had been talking to looked sheepish. "I tried to stop him, but Lord von Bielefeld… and I thought that perhaps it would be best, considering the little scene awhile ago…"
"How much has he had?"
When told the exact amount, Murata shook his head. "Party's over for Wolfram, I'm afraid."
As Murata half-carried, half-dragged Wolfram back up to the castle, he wondered what he would tell Yuuri. Wolfram would certainly not appreciate it if the king found out that he had gotten drunk despite his assurances that he could pace himself. Well, if it hadn't been for Andrew, Wolfram would have been able to… but then, he would have to explain what had happened, and Wolfram wouldn't like that either.
The demon prince smelled strongly of wine. "C'mon, Wolf," he grunted. "You've got to cooperate with me on this. We have to make sure that Shibuya doesn't see you."
"He won't," Wolfram muttered, opening one eye. "He never sees me."
Murata would have liked to make a reply to this, but he was too busy supporting Wolfram at the moment. "I can do it myself," Wolfram said proudly, pulling his hands away. He managed a few wobbly steps, with Murata nearly going crazy with worry when the prince almost stumbled. "Where are we going?"
"Not back to Shibuya, that's for sure," the Great Sage warned. "That is, unless you really want him to see you in this state."
Wolfram paused. "Am I drunk?"
"Uh-huh. Positively smashed."
"Then yes, we can't let Yuuri see me like this," Wolfram said, eyes drooping. "And much as I hate to impose on you…" His tongue felt thick and clumsy. "Could I stay with you again tonight?"
Murata hesitated but weakened almost immediately. "All right."
"Thanks." Wolfram replied.
"For a drunk person, you seem remarkably lucid," Murata remarked.
"The castle's all sparkly and pretty tonight," Wolfram answered with solemn conviction.
"Or not… hey, where are you going, Wolf? It's this way."
Wolfram pulled at his arm. "I need a bath first. I bet that I reek of alcohol. Do you really want to smell like that in the morning?"
He was just grateful that Wolfram was retaining a logical thinking process. "Okay. Ah… why are you dragging me with you, then?"
The prince gave him a look, as though he was very, very stupid. "Because," he explained, in a tone that he might have used to speak to a child, "in the state that I am currently in, I might drown in that tub." He licked his lips slowly. "And I'm not sober enough to care about modesty at the moment."
"Are you sure you're drunk?"
Murata had his answer when he had to grab at the suddenly keeling prince. He grasped the slender arms, felt the fragile bones underneath the smooth skin. "Yes, you are… but you're the most sober drunk I've ever seen."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Wolfram murmured drowsily. It took them fifteen minutes to get to the baths. Wolfram, staggering, fell near the water's edge.
"You can't take a bath with your clothes on, Wolf," Murata pointed out matter-of-factly.
Wolfram looked at him. "I can," he stated, and promptly slid into the bath, still fully clothed. "Told you so."
The coherent Wolfram was rapidly disappearing, in turn being replaced by a childish Wolfram who was endearing to watch, although a tad annoying. But maybe Wolfram was annoying whether sober or inebriated, anyway. He smiled a little at the thought. "Take them off, Wolfram."
"Pervert."
Murata stared at him. "What?"
"Pervert," Wolfram repeated, as he took off his shirt and flung it in Murata's direction. The Great Sage caught it, cocking his head to one side, and had to make another grab at the pants that came flying his way.
Even someone who wasn't interested in Wolfram would have had a hard time not watching the beautiful blonde. As it was, Murata was doing his best to avoid gaping at the boy. He knew that Wolfram wasn't doing it on purpose, but he was just so damned attractive that Murata found it difficult to believe that he wasn't being deliberate as the demon let a soft sigh escape his lips.
It seemed like an eternity later that the prince stepped out of the tub, dripping wet. He had been right; intoxicated, the normally prudish prince didn't give a damn whether he was naked or not.
"Here," Murata said, tossing him a towel, keeping his eyes on the ground.
"Thanks," Wolfram mumbled, drying himself off. "I need clothes."
"Where do you keep them?"
"The room. You know, the one that I share with Yuuri."
Murata sighed. "Well, that's obviously not an option." Wolfram was definitely not going in there—at least not like this; barely covered and obviously not thinking properly—and he wasn't about to tiptoe into the king's room either. Yuuri was probably waiting up for Wolfram, or if not, he was likely to wake up the moment he heard the door creak. It would have entailed endless explanations or lies, and he didn't really feel like doing either of the two. "I'll scrounge some clothes up for you from your soldiers, all right? I'm sure that they'd be more than glad to help out."
"Okay." Wolfram slid to a sitting position on the stone ground and leaned his head against the wall. Murata tore his gaze away from the dozing prince. The towel covered almost nothing, and he had to turn away before some stupid part of his mind made him act on impulse. Curse the teenage hormones of his current form! Wolfram was right; he was a pervert.
A/N: And there you have it so far. I was emo while working on this chapter, so Wolfram was kind of emo too. Heh. So, was it okay? Read and review please! More reviews faster updates!