[fic, Gen, Kyou Kara Maou] The Foundation
Title: The Foundation
Author: Anthy
Series: Kyou Kara Maou
Genre: Gen
Spoilers: Gwendal's 'hand signals' are revealed. I accidentally was spoiled on this by reading a review of episode seven and had to write about it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou, though I will take the characters for a spin every now and then. (Author's notes at the end of the fic)
He had to move. Any moment longer in this room and the occupants would most likely say or do something that they would all regret. Gwendal marched toward the exit, his shoulders tense as he attempted to ignore the commotion behind him. The fingers in his right still moved but unseen to the others, his subconscious trying to relieve the stress the only way it knew how. He would deal, all he need to do at the moment was. . .
"Gwendal!"
. . .flee. Gwendal froze at the exit, his eyes gaping at the red-haired demoness that stared at him. There was something in the way Anissa said his name, the hidden syllable (in his mind) loudly enunciated. His mother argued his name was melodic, Gwendal always felt that it sounded as if certain people were concealing a belch, his mother and Anissa in particular. For now, however, his name rung in his ears as a clear warning signal. He remained frozen in mid-step, a bead of sweat falling visibly from his brow. Anissa looked at the foray she unknowingly paused and furrowed her brow. For all of the eccentric ideas and her eagerness to try them, Anissa had no tolerance for such nonsense. She immediately launched into a lecture, her cheerful tone hidden behind a matronly voice.
"You do not need to instruct me to do such a thing." Gwendal announced to the room irritably, his voice a low roar. He regained his bearings enough to push his way around the woman to exit the hallway. The people in the room called after him, but Gwendal paid no heed as he walked briskly through the halls. He frown deepened as he made his way through his own castle, his servants lowering their heads and disappearing in empty corridors or rooms.
"Scary face indeed." He huffed as he opened the door to his personal study, slamming it shut behind him. Gwendal sat at his desk, scowling at the door for a moment, daring anyone to walk through so that he could obliterate them. Only after he was greeted with silence did Gwendal reach into the drawers of his desk and pulled out the items he so desperately wanted to hold. As his presentiment toward the kingdom grew, his addiction to such a hobby became necessary. His family was not helping things.
Everyone around him appeared to have lost their sense around the new Maou, if not obsessed with the child. His mother, prone to wear love affairs more than a new outfit, had taken a shine to him. Wolfram, already irritating with his repeated failures at pretending to be a mature lord, had become even more temperamental after becoming engaged to the king. Had he the right mind, he would have politely declined such a proposal instead of behaving as the spoiled child he is.
Conrad and Gunther both were entirely too forgiving with the Maou's behavior, a mistake that could prove deadly to this kingdom. He was sure that one or both of them carried ill-appropriate thoughts toward the boy, but there was nothing he could do to prevent it. So uneducated and even less mature than Wolfram, and this was the boy he was supposed to lay all hope in the future of his home?
He sighed as he shook his head, pushing the thoughts away from his mind as he picked up the thin piece of metal, twirling it in his fingers as his opposite hand brought out a ball of yarn. With practiced ease he made his slipknot and started on his foundation chain. He looped the strip of yarn around the small hook at the end of the metal needle before twisting the needle and pulling the yarn and hook through the knot. His left hand provided the proper tension for the right hand to work through the chin, the yarn snaked around his fingers. They moved only to loosen the string on the ball, the index finger raising and lowering as he looped more yarn around the needle. Loop, pull, loop, pull. He counted as he moved along, knowing that his chain was the most important part of the piece.
In all of its understated simplicity, the foundation served as a guide to the project. If a weak chain were to unravel, the entire thing would fall to pieces. The chain had to be strong one. As he should be.
Gwendal's mind melted away to only thoughts of calculations, he quickly added up the knots, deciding on the type of stitch he would use for this pattern. He divided the number and made a mental note of his turn stitches before starting to stitch in a moderately fast rhythm. Loop, loop, pull, one, loop, loop, pull, two, stitch hook turn loop, loop, one.
As the time went by, people ventured to the door, but to their displeasure they would be turned away before they could even enter his study.
"Gwen~"
"Not now, mother."
"Gwendal!"
"...no."
"Sire! Correspondence from-"
"Very well, leave it at the door, I will pick it up shortly."
"...sir, the Count would like a reply."
"As he will get one!" he snapped, returning his attention to weaving in the loose piece of yarn into the finished product. He sat back in his chair, admiring the elongated rectangle he spent the entire day completing. His fingers were pleasantly sore, and though it looked pretty useless now, Gwendal was sure that by the end of the week it be a nice teddy bear. He may even give it away as a gift, though most of his creations remain on the shelf where he placed them once finished.
He looked outside the dark window as he stood, his project may be over for the day, but his business was not. He returned the items into the drawer, his mood calm and his mind refocused. Nodding firmly to himself, Gwendal marched out of his study.
Author's note: Gwendal does knit very cute, little stuffed animals as a stress-relieving hobby (it works, yo). Just knowing that endeared him a little more to me. Since this authoress only knows how to crochet, that is the knitting style used in this fic. This is a rarity, I do not usually write fics for new series, especially for characters that are still in "developing stages." Ah well, I'm pretty sure there will be smut in the future, or something nice and long with Gwen upfront, but I'll wait and see were the series goes. But for now, I hope you enjoyed my little piece of fluff. ^_^
Author: Anthy
Series: Kyou Kara Maou
Genre: Gen
Spoilers: Gwendal's 'hand signals' are revealed. I accidentally was spoiled on this by reading a review of episode seven and had to write about it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou, though I will take the characters for a spin every now and then. (Author's notes at the end of the fic)
He had to move. Any moment longer in this room and the occupants would most likely say or do something that they would all regret. Gwendal marched toward the exit, his shoulders tense as he attempted to ignore the commotion behind him. The fingers in his right still moved but unseen to the others, his subconscious trying to relieve the stress the only way it knew how. He would deal, all he need to do at the moment was. . .
"Gwendal!"
. . .flee. Gwendal froze at the exit, his eyes gaping at the red-haired demoness that stared at him. There was something in the way Anissa said his name, the hidden syllable (in his mind) loudly enunciated. His mother argued his name was melodic, Gwendal always felt that it sounded as if certain people were concealing a belch, his mother and Anissa in particular. For now, however, his name rung in his ears as a clear warning signal. He remained frozen in mid-step, a bead of sweat falling visibly from his brow. Anissa looked at the foray she unknowingly paused and furrowed her brow. For all of the eccentric ideas and her eagerness to try them, Anissa had no tolerance for such nonsense. She immediately launched into a lecture, her cheerful tone hidden behind a matronly voice.
"You do not need to instruct me to do such a thing." Gwendal announced to the room irritably, his voice a low roar. He regained his bearings enough to push his way around the woman to exit the hallway. The people in the room called after him, but Gwendal paid no heed as he walked briskly through the halls. He frown deepened as he made his way through his own castle, his servants lowering their heads and disappearing in empty corridors or rooms.
"Scary face indeed." He huffed as he opened the door to his personal study, slamming it shut behind him. Gwendal sat at his desk, scowling at the door for a moment, daring anyone to walk through so that he could obliterate them. Only after he was greeted with silence did Gwendal reach into the drawers of his desk and pulled out the items he so desperately wanted to hold. As his presentiment toward the kingdom grew, his addiction to such a hobby became necessary. His family was not helping things.
Everyone around him appeared to have lost their sense around the new Maou, if not obsessed with the child. His mother, prone to wear love affairs more than a new outfit, had taken a shine to him. Wolfram, already irritating with his repeated failures at pretending to be a mature lord, had become even more temperamental after becoming engaged to the king. Had he the right mind, he would have politely declined such a proposal instead of behaving as the spoiled child he is.
Conrad and Gunther both were entirely too forgiving with the Maou's behavior, a mistake that could prove deadly to this kingdom. He was sure that one or both of them carried ill-appropriate thoughts toward the boy, but there was nothing he could do to prevent it. So uneducated and even less mature than Wolfram, and this was the boy he was supposed to lay all hope in the future of his home?
He sighed as he shook his head, pushing the thoughts away from his mind as he picked up the thin piece of metal, twirling it in his fingers as his opposite hand brought out a ball of yarn. With practiced ease he made his slipknot and started on his foundation chain. He looped the strip of yarn around the small hook at the end of the metal needle before twisting the needle and pulling the yarn and hook through the knot. His left hand provided the proper tension for the right hand to work through the chin, the yarn snaked around his fingers. They moved only to loosen the string on the ball, the index finger raising and lowering as he looped more yarn around the needle. Loop, pull, loop, pull. He counted as he moved along, knowing that his chain was the most important part of the piece.
In all of its understated simplicity, the foundation served as a guide to the project. If a weak chain were to unravel, the entire thing would fall to pieces. The chain had to be strong one. As he should be.
Gwendal's mind melted away to only thoughts of calculations, he quickly added up the knots, deciding on the type of stitch he would use for this pattern. He divided the number and made a mental note of his turn stitches before starting to stitch in a moderately fast rhythm. Loop, loop, pull, one, loop, loop, pull, two, stitch hook turn loop, loop, one.
As the time went by, people ventured to the door, but to their displeasure they would be turned away before they could even enter his study.
"Gwen~"
"Not now, mother."
"Gwendal!"
"...no."
"Sire! Correspondence from-"
"Very well, leave it at the door, I will pick it up shortly."
"...sir, the Count would like a reply."
"As he will get one!" he snapped, returning his attention to weaving in the loose piece of yarn into the finished product. He sat back in his chair, admiring the elongated rectangle he spent the entire day completing. His fingers were pleasantly sore, and though it looked pretty useless now, Gwendal was sure that by the end of the week it be a nice teddy bear. He may even give it away as a gift, though most of his creations remain on the shelf where he placed them once finished.
He looked outside the dark window as he stood, his project may be over for the day, but his business was not. He returned the items into the drawer, his mood calm and his mind refocused. Nodding firmly to himself, Gwendal marched out of his study.
Author's note: Gwendal does knit very cute, little stuffed animals as a stress-relieving hobby (it works, yo). Just knowing that endeared him a little more to me. Since this authoress only knows how to crochet, that is the knitting style used in this fic. This is a rarity, I do not usually write fics for new series, especially for characters that are still in "developing stages." Ah well, I'm pretty sure there will be smut in the future, or something nice and long with Gwen upfront, but I'll wait and see were the series goes. But for now, I hope you enjoyed my little piece of fluff. ^_^