Unforgivable-- Chapter VII, part 1
Title: Unforgivable
Author: Melusine
Beta: toshimalfoy
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: WolfYuu/Yuuram, Greta
Warnings this part: Statutory rape, issues of rape, incest
Overall warnings: Angst, violence, incest, dubious consent, statutory rape, issues of rape
Spoilers: Through season 2.
Disclaimer: Kyou Kara Maou! and related characters, situations, etc. belong to Tomo Takabayashi and various other people/companies, none of whom are me. This is a fan work; no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: It's been seven years since Yuuri became the Demon King, proposed to Wolfram, and adopted Greta. When the relationship between Yuuri and Wolfram begins to shift, and Greta is attacked, everything changes and old wounds are exposed.
Part: 7/?
Chapter VII
Yuuri.
Wolfram clung to his husband, his wimp, his Yuuri, but his breath still hitched because maybe this was no less pathetic than when he'd clung to Conrad all those years ago, waiting for him to fix what he'd done. Conrad hadn't fixed it. Conrad had left. Yuuri wouldn't leave, but that didn't mean that Yuuri could fix it. Wolfram didn't even know what was broken. He didn't know what he needed or what could be done. He couldn't even recognize the emotions that were making him dizzy. Some were familiar; some weren't.
Yuuri was solid, damp, cold, but his breath by Wolfram's ear was warm as he whispered, "Promise not to leave me."
"I won't leave," said Wolfram. And it was true-- If Yuuri lost him, it would be in spirit only.
He couldn't think about that now. For Yuuri's sake, he had to block out all thoughts of the past and the future, everything except the boy in his arms at this moment, and how they were both here and there was no room for feeling... anything, except Yuuri's heartbeat.
But the cold was seeping in. It wasn't so late in the season, but Yuuri's clothes were soaked and the chamber was drafty-- not yet prepared for the autumn-- and Wolfram was... Wolfram was in no condition to summon the warmth he would have liked to. In a few minutes, they were both shivering.
Wolfram loosened his hold, and Yuuri drew away enough to see him. "Sorry I got you all wet," the wimp muttered.
"Don't worry about it. But you should get into some dry clothes. And you should sleep, too. You're exhausted."
Yuuri just looked at him, biting his lip.
"You're going to have to get off of me," Wolfram clarified.
"But aren't you going to--" He cut himself off as Wolfram forced him to his feet and stood up.
"What?" said Wolfram, already on his way to the dresser.
"Aren't you going to tell me what happened?"
Wolfram pulled the drawer open with a bang. "I already did. Here." He threw Yuuri a set of pajamas. "Your lips are turning blue."
Yuuri caught the clothing and frowned. "So that's it? You're not leaving, but you won't talk about it, either? How is that supposed to solve anything?"
"Alright." He shut the drawer and turned around, sighing. "What happened... was thirty years ago. You're cold and wet and tired right now. And so am I. So go to sleep, and we'll talk when you wake up."
Yuuri nodded slowly and began to work on his jacket buttons, his fingers fumbling while he stifled a yawn. Wolfram came forward to help him. Yuuri allowed it, but said, "See, now you're trying to take care of me when I should be helping you."
"Wimp. You can't stop me taking care of you." Because if he wasn't responsible for Yuuri and Greta, he'd have no reason to keep himself together. And it wasn't as if there was anything Yuuri could do for him now.
And so he helped his husband change, touching more than was necessary but less than Yuuri wanted him to, and didn't even notice when he stopped feeling cold and the wet patches on his jacket dried. When the wimp was safely in his pajamas, Wolfram ruffled Yuuri's hair to remove the last of the damp.
"Thanks," said Yuuri, smiling softly.
Wolfram kept his hand buried in that soft darkness. Moved closer. Yuuri's gaze shifted down to his mouth, but he didn't move as Wolfram leaned in-- and stopped just short of his husband's lips.
Yuuri was still-- hardly even breathing. After a moment, he said, "I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I kept pushing--"
"Wimp." Wolfram stepped back. "Don't you dare start crying again. We are not talking about this now."
"But I--"
"Go to sleep, Yuuri."
The High King pouted and turned obediently to crawl into bed. But as he settled under the covers, he looked back at Wolfram. "I love you," he repeated.
Wolfram ran the back of his hand over his eyes. "I know. Go to sleep."
Yuuri looked so unhappy and worried, however, that Wolfram sighed again and sat down at the edge of the bed, causing the other boy to shift closer to him. He let Yuuri take his hand and said quietly, "I'm not going anywhere, Yuuri." His husband nodded slowly, then finally closed his eyes and in seconds sunk into the deep sleep of magical exhaustion. He would be out for hours.
Wolfram sat for a while longer, watching Yuuri sleep and wondering what he was going to do.
Maybe Yuuri would divorce him anyway, when he fulfilled his promise to Greta.
Greta. He was supposed to deliver that letter... He'd forgotten completely. Caught up in himself. He was getting even more selfish and stupid than his husband.
He found the letter still in the pocket of the jacket he'd been wearing. Soaked through, of course, as he'd forgotten to protect it. But the ink and paper were of good quality and it didn't seem to be ruined. Finding Anissina was almost as easy, though it involved walking nearly the whole length of the castle twice-- He learned from her laboratory assistant that she was speaking with Gwendal in his office.
He could tell, when he came in, that they'd been talking about him. He wondered how many people were.
"Your Highness," said Anissina, with a brief smile. "How is the princess?"
"She... She'll be alright. She wrote you." He held out the soggy envelope. "It's wet-- I'm sorry-- Traveling between the worlds..."
"Oh!" She took the letter eagerly. "Thank you, Your Highness. Excuse me." She nodded respectfully to Wolfram and Gwendal, and as she left she was already tearing open the seal.
Wolfram hovered, waiting to be dismissed by his older brother, then remembered he was king, then didn't know quite what to do with himself. He hadn't been able to meet Anissina's eye, and he couldn't even look at Gwendal now. He turned to the door. But then he heard Gwendal get up from his desk.
"Wolfram," said his brother from behind him. "I'm not going to ask you to tell me what happened while you were gone. Just remember that whatever it was, it will happen again if you don't do something to stop it."
I know. Wolfram swallowed. "... It's between me and Yuuri." Once again, his tone had defied him and he sounded pathetic.
"Nothing is ever solely between a king and his spouse, as you well know. A month ago you went to great lengths to be sure that everyone knew you were celebrating your wedding night. Now you come back from what looks like a late honeymoon, acting like a beaten mistress."
It was true. He couldn't deny it, though now it felt like it really had been a month since he'd been so sure... But it had been less than two days, and he was suddenly aware of the bruises that were not quite hidden between his hair and collar. He'd been proud of the marks just yesterday. Now they reminded him that he belonged to someone else.
Gwendal had never approved of the trade Wolfram had agreed to in marrying Yuuri-- his body for a crown. Now Wolfram understood why. Because it wasn't what he'd prepared himself for in the beginning all those years ago-- lie back and submit and think of the kingdom. Nor was it the closeness he'd wanted so desperately since getting to know Yuuri. No; what he'd ended up with was confusion. And no way out.
Just like before.
Of course Gwendal would be able to see it happening again. Although he still didn't know what had gone on for years behind his back-- Wolfram liked to think that if Gwendal had suspected anything close to the truth, Conrad wouldn't be here now-- he and everyone else had noticed that there was something off about Wolfram and Conrad's relationship.
Wolfram's relatives in Belefield had noticed to the point that they'd started to make accusations. Wolfram hadn't understood most of what was going on at the time, because no one seemed to want to tell him the whole truth, but in the end he'd been given a choice: Go to live with his father's family, or stay in the capital and lose any claim to Belefield. Of course he'd chosen to stay. He was still a child in most ways and wouldn't have voluntarily left his mother and brothers and the castle he'd grown up in.
But Gwendal had wanted something better for him. Wolfram remembered a conversation he'd overheard in this same office thirty years ago--
"Don't tell me you believe what they're saying." Conrad's voice, cocky, self-assured. "You can't think I would lay a hand on my own brother. You know this has more to do with my blood than anything else."
"Of course it does," Gwendal had replied evenly. "But you have to admit, you do hold a lot of influence over him. More than you should. It isn't normal."
"What can I do about it if the kid wants to follow me around? And what about you-- He does everything you tell him."
"But I don't tell him to go chasing after coin purses at the bottom of the river."
"I fished him out eventually," said Conrad defensively. After a pause, he added, all swagger gone from his voice, "And how was I supposed to know he couldn't swim? Why did he jump in when he can't swim?"
"That's precisely the point," said Gwendal. "He did it because you told him to. It's not healthy."
"It's not my fault he's got no common sense."
Gwendal sighed. "Conrad, you and I have a duty to Wolfram. And neither of us has been there as much as we should or would like... But it's our job to make sure he makes the right decisions." A pause. "We need to convince him to go to Belefield."
"What? No. No, he chose to stay with us."
"And do you think he considered his future in the ten seconds it took him to shake his head at their offer? Here, he's a third son. In Belefield, he'll be the sole heir-- ruling in a few decades."
"No." Conrad sounded almost panicked. "He belongs here. We're his family."
"So are they."
Conrad hadn't bothered to keep arguing. Instead, he'd burst through the doors, almost running into Wolfram where he stood eavesdropping.
"Wolf," he said, eyes wide, cheeks pale. He took Wolfram's face in his hands. "You don't want to leave me, do you?"
"No," Wolfram breathed. How could he want to leave someone who loved him this much? Even if he did hurt him, more and more...
Conrad sighed in relief, and smiled. "Of course not. Because you're mine, aren't you, Wolf?"
"Yes," said Wolfram. Nothing was truer.
And maybe somewhere between the accusations of Wolfram's relatives and the logic of Gwendal's warnings, Conrad began to feel guilty for what he was doing, because for several weeks after that he didn't pull Wolfram into deserted corridors or behind trees. It was a relief at first, but soon enough Conrad was finding other ways to prove that he had more control over Wolfram's body than Wolfram did. And Wolfram had felt he would rather have bruises at the back of his throat than shining on his face for all the world to see. So-- though Wolfram was sure he would never stop hating himself for it-- he had dropped to his knees one day of his own accord, and whatever resolve Conrad might have had disappeared at the sight of his little brother looking up at him and wetting his lips.
So everything had returned to normal, except that now Wolfram had no inheritance. It didn't seem to matter much at the time, because it was hard to think about the future, to imagine that anything could exist beyond Conrad. Which was why Conrad's departure had left him...
Well, it had left him like this.
And everyone could see it.
"Well," said Wolfram, when he'd found his voice, "gossips have to talk about something. They'll be grateful I'm giving them such a show."
"Wolfram--"
He let his forehead fall against the closed door. "What do you want me to do? He would never grant me a divorce." It was hard to breathe. "And... I don't think I want him to." Even though the little things Yuuri had done that Wolfram had forgiven, attributed to clumsiness driven by the kinds of feelings Wolfram wanted Yuuri to have, all made him feel sick now. It was no longer the least bit endearing that Yuuri couldn't keep his hands off his husband.
"No," Gwendal agreed, "I don't think that's an option. For one thing, he has your daughter." A hand on his shoulder. "But you have to find some way to keep yourself together. You promised me not so long ago that His Majesty wasn't your only source of happiness."
Wolfram squeezed his eyes shut. The other was Greta. And now she was so far out of his reach... Yuuri had done that, too.
But Gwendal was right. Wolfram straightened up and said, "I'll take care of it, Brother. You won't have to tell me again." He stayed a moment longer before he shook off Gwendal's touch.
* * *
Yuuri's empty stomach woke him that evening. When he opened his eyes, he found Wolfram sitting on the floor some feet away, his legs drawn up to his chest and his arms crossed over his knees, supporting his head. When he heard Yuuri sit up, he jumped a little and looked up quickly.
"You're awake," he said, then looked away again as Yuuri nodded. After another moment, he took a breath and said, "Look... I've thought about it, and I don't know why you want to know so badly about something that happened three decades ago, but since you do... I think you should ask him."
"What?" Yuuri tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. "You mean Conrad?"
Intead of snapping at him, Wolfram nodded, and said, "You're going to have to talk to him sometime. He's your friend. And it will save me having to... I don't know, give details or whatever it is you want."
"Alright," said Yuuri cautiously, after a moment. "But I'd rather hear it from you."
"Hear what from me? I don't know what you want me to say!"
"I just..." Yuuri had had some fantasy that if he could just get Wolfram to Talk About It, then he would open up, break down, tell Yuuri everything and what he needed to do to make it better. But this was Wolfram; of course it would be more difficult. "Don't you think it would help?"
Wolfram's pale cheeks were tinged with pink, which was at least more familiar than the strange distance of earlier. "Help with what?"
"With... With you and me and what happened last night..."
Wolfram stood abruptly. "It has nothing to do with what happened last night." He crossed his arms and began to pace.
Yuuri took a deep breath and said calmly, "I think it does. There's a reason you did something you didn't want--"
"I did it because you wanted me to."
"I didn't--"
His husband whirled around. "You did! You enjoyed it!"
"I wouldn't have if I'd known-- But you didn't let me look!"
Heat building in the room, but worse than usual-- erratic, metallic, coming in flashes-- the magic of a child with power out of his control. "So you admit it," Wolfram hissed. "You wanted to see-- to see me on my knees--"
"No!"
"You'd think," Wolfram went on, ignoring him, eyes rimmed with red, the air sparking around him, "that after all I've done for you-- everything I gave up-- But you still want to see me humiliated!"
"WOLFRAM!" Yuuri finally stood. He had to struggle to keep his own magic at bay, to resist the urge to force Wolfram to understand... "You know that's not true. You're just having trouble trusting me right now because of what your brother did to you."
Wolfram snarled, and a three-foot flame burst into existence in the air between them before fading just as quickly. "Stop pretending I'm being irrational. As if I'm the one-- As if you've never given me reason not to trust you before. As if you've always stopped when I told you to. As if you've always cared what I wanted. As if you weren't always just interested in fucking."
Yuuri buried his face in his hands. "No," he said weakly. "No, I never meant to do any of that..." Surely Wolfram believed him, somewhere, deep down... "You know that. You know I'd never want to hurt you. You married me--"
"Because I'm stupid," Wolfram spat. "I'm stupid and weak and I'm so fucking in love with you I can't--" He cut himself off with a strangled sound.
The ringing silence was almost a relief after so much. Yuuri tried to focus on his own breathing.
He should let Wolfram go. He had no right to ask him to stay. This was all wrong...
"I'm sorry."
Yuuri looked up, shocked.
"That was unnecessary," Wolfram went on. His arms, which had escaped to form fists while he was yelling, were folded once more securely across his chest. He was looking away, but holding his head high. Suddenly royalty again.
Yuuri didn't like it. "At least you were being honest," he said.
"No," said Wolfram coldly, "I was being childish."
"So now you're just going to take it all back?"
Wolfram didn't answer.
Yuuri sat down again, with a sigh that was almost a groan. "So what do we do now?" he asked, afraid of the response.
But his husband finally looked at him, albeit reservedly, and said, "We go to dinner." Then he turned to the door. "Of course, you'll have to get dressed for that." And before Yuuri could say a thing, he had gone.
* * *
Wolfram closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall outside their door, trying to slow his frantic heart rate. He couldn't even remember what all he'd said-- just that it was too much. And some of it he believed, and some of it he didn't.
Yes, Yuuri loved him. But so had Conrad. In Wolfram's experience, that only made it all more dangerous, made it easier for Yuuri to hurt Wolfram, harder for Wolfram to defend himself-- harder for him to want to.
Impossible for him to escape.
There was nothing he could do. He knew he would forgive Yuuri-- maybe he already had-- just because seeing Yuuri in pain hurt too much.
Once, Gwendal had told Wolfram not to be like him, and given him the button from their brother's sleeve. Wolfram had obeyed. He'd screamed, gone recklessly after Yuuri, let himself fall even more in love and didn't bother to hide it, called Conrad his brother, wept when Yuuri left them all-- He'd taken it too far, as he always did. Gwendal had to tell him to stop. To live for something besides Yuuri...
And Wolfram had thought he'd found a balance. Loving Yuuri, being devoted as a soldier and as his fiancé, while still saving something of himself-- for Greta, for his own pride. But it had still been too much. He should have recognized long ago that he was never in control when Yuuri was around, and that that was dangerous.
There was a saying-- "Never fall in love with your king or your whore." It was usually quoted by parents trying to steer their children away from economically inappropriate matches, but that didn't mean it wasn't good advice. He'd been so stupid to think that because it was Yuuri, the difference in power wouldn't matter. Power always mattered.
The bedroom door opened, and Yuuri emerged, dressed and looking miserable. He tried to catch Wolfram's eye, but Wolfram looked away. He didn't know which would be worse-- if what he saw in Yuuri's face made him trust Yuuri completely once again... or if it didn't, and never would.
"Conrad's going to be there," said Yuuri quietly.
Wolfram pushed off from the wall and started down the corridor. "Of course he is."
They walked in silence for a while, Yuuri still trailing behind. Then, when they were almost at the dining room, Yuuri said, "Do you still want me to talk to him?"
"I don't care what you do," said Wolfram, and opened the door for him.
Yuuri paused as everyone else, already assembled at the table, stood for their entrance. But once again Wolfram avoided his eye, so Yuuri inhaled bracingly and walked past him to his seat.
Wolfram followed, trying to keep his head high, conscious again of looking, as Gwendal had put it, "like a beaten mistress". He still couldn't look at anyone directly, however, and so ended up almost as vulnerable as he'd been that morning.
Yuuri's face was pale as he gave a weak sort of greeting and took his seat, allowing first Wolfram, then everyone else, to follow. Wolfram was sure everyone noticed at once that Yuuri, too, was now acting strangely. He didn't even try to cover up his awkwardness with chatting or forced laughter-- which meant that the whole table was more or less silent, with only the occasional remark or inquiry that politeness required. Yuuri never once looked to his left, where Conrad sat.
He did look at Wolfram far more than was necessary, which was almost irritating enough to distract him from the fact that he couldn't taste anything because it all tasted the same-- It had been like that all day, and he hated it because it had happened before. All he could taste was-- Well, he supposed that now it was Yuuri, though it used to be Conrad, or himself... It was always essentially the same.
Always the same. His head spun and he set down his water glass before he dropped it. Suddenly all he could think about was how much he didn't want to be alone with Yuuri. Because Yuuri would want to talk and Wolfram would want to shut him up and so Wolfram would offer and Yuuri would want-- And it would all happen again, over and over, and Wolfram wouldn't be able to taste anything else for the rest of his life.
Next to him, Yuuri seemed to have given up both on eating and on watching his husband. He was instead staring at the tablecloth, his hands twisting the napkin in his lap, and his lip worrying between his teeth.
Wimp. This was public enough without Yuuri giving up completely on hiding it.
Wolfram leaned in and hissed, "Stop thinking about it!" What right did Yuuri have to be thinking about it anyways? It was Wolfram's past, not his. Wolfram hadn't even wanted him to know; let alone did he want Yuuri imagining things...
Yuuri stopped chewing his lip to take a gasping breath. "I can't," he said.-- Loud enough for everyone to hear. Then seemed to realize his mistake. His eyes grew wide for a moment and he muttered, "I'm sorry," and stood up before Wolfram could stop him.
And he finally did look over at Conrad, just once, briefly, before turning and fleeing the room.
Wolfram rested his head in his hands in the stunned silence.
"Co--" He stopped himself, cleared his throat. "Weller," he said, not looking up. "Go talk to him. Tell him... Tell him I sent you."
After a short pause, he heard the older man get up and follow his king.
"Wolfram..." His mother's voice. "What's wrong?"
He raised his head and shook it. "He'll be fine." And he returned to his meal, avoiding Gwendal's eyes.
* * *
Yuuri ran in the dark until he tripped on some stone in the courtyard and came crashing down, landing hard on his palms. He didn't move for several minutes, breathing hard enough to make himself dizzy.
Someone else was there, crouching down beside him, a hand on his back, saying his name.
Conrad.
"Yuuri," he said again, sounding worried. "Are you alright? What's going on?"
Yuuri closed his eyes. "Did Wolfram tell you to talk to me?"
"... Yes. Why?"
"He... He wants me to ask you... He doesn't want to tell me, so he told me to ask you..."
Conrad's voice was low, almost frightened. "Ask me what, Yuuri?"
"But I wanted him to talk to me, and he won't-- I don't know what to do..." Yuuri sat back on the cool ground, and gave in to the temptation to lean against his friend. Conrad held him, and for a few minutes there was silence except for the last of the crickets in the grass. Conrad was still Conrad. He was just as he'd always been, only now Yuuri knew more about what that was. Or used to be.
"Yuuri," said Conrad finally, "what are you supposed to ask me?"
But he didn't need to ask, not really, because he already knew more than he wanted to. Unless...
"Maybe it isn't true," he said. "Maybe Wolfram made it up, like a false memory..." He looked up at the older man's face, trying to read his expression in the light from the castle. "Did you-- Did you really do that to him?"
Conrad's features hardened in a way that reminded Yuuri forcefully of swords and Great Shimeron and a white coat. But Yuuri knew that look now. It sent a shiver down his back, and had probably helped Conrad earn his reputation on the battlefield, but all it was, really, was Conrad's own self-hatred.
Yuuri stood up.
The truth was, there had been hints all along. Little things Wolfram had said, warnings-- You don't know his past, he'd said about Conrad, so long ago. Yuuri had always assumed that referred to the war, but now it occurred to him that Wolfram thought war was honorable. And then there was the way Wolfram had always been more suspicious and-- Yuuri saw now-- scared of Conrad's attentions to Yuuri than anyone else's. And now several instances came to mind of, over the years, Wolfram being reluctant to leave Greta alone with Conrad.
Yuuri had started walking without realizing it. Conrad was still behind him, walking with him. Yuuri remembered that even if Conrad wanted to leave him alone, he couldn't. Someone had to protect the High King.
He didn't know what to say, so he kept walking.
* * *
Chapter VII, part 2
Back to chapter VI
Back to chapter I
Author: Melusine
Beta: toshimalfoy
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: WolfYuu/Yuuram, Greta
Warnings this part: Statutory rape, issues of rape, incest
Overall warnings: Angst, violence, incest, dubious consent, statutory rape, issues of rape
Spoilers: Through season 2.
Disclaimer: Kyou Kara Maou! and related characters, situations, etc. belong to Tomo Takabayashi and various other people/companies, none of whom are me. This is a fan work; no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: It's been seven years since Yuuri became the Demon King, proposed to Wolfram, and adopted Greta. When the relationship between Yuuri and Wolfram begins to shift, and Greta is attacked, everything changes and old wounds are exposed.
Part: 7/?
Chapter VII
Yuuri.
Wolfram clung to his husband, his wimp, his Yuuri, but his breath still hitched because maybe this was no less pathetic than when he'd clung to Conrad all those years ago, waiting for him to fix what he'd done. Conrad hadn't fixed it. Conrad had left. Yuuri wouldn't leave, but that didn't mean that Yuuri could fix it. Wolfram didn't even know what was broken. He didn't know what he needed or what could be done. He couldn't even recognize the emotions that were making him dizzy. Some were familiar; some weren't.
Yuuri was solid, damp, cold, but his breath by Wolfram's ear was warm as he whispered, "Promise not to leave me."
"I won't leave," said Wolfram. And it was true-- If Yuuri lost him, it would be in spirit only.
He couldn't think about that now. For Yuuri's sake, he had to block out all thoughts of the past and the future, everything except the boy in his arms at this moment, and how they were both here and there was no room for feeling... anything, except Yuuri's heartbeat.
But the cold was seeping in. It wasn't so late in the season, but Yuuri's clothes were soaked and the chamber was drafty-- not yet prepared for the autumn-- and Wolfram was... Wolfram was in no condition to summon the warmth he would have liked to. In a few minutes, they were both shivering.
Wolfram loosened his hold, and Yuuri drew away enough to see him. "Sorry I got you all wet," the wimp muttered.
"Don't worry about it. But you should get into some dry clothes. And you should sleep, too. You're exhausted."
Yuuri just looked at him, biting his lip.
"You're going to have to get off of me," Wolfram clarified.
"But aren't you going to--" He cut himself off as Wolfram forced him to his feet and stood up.
"What?" said Wolfram, already on his way to the dresser.
"Aren't you going to tell me what happened?"
Wolfram pulled the drawer open with a bang. "I already did. Here." He threw Yuuri a set of pajamas. "Your lips are turning blue."
Yuuri caught the clothing and frowned. "So that's it? You're not leaving, but you won't talk about it, either? How is that supposed to solve anything?"
"Alright." He shut the drawer and turned around, sighing. "What happened... was thirty years ago. You're cold and wet and tired right now. And so am I. So go to sleep, and we'll talk when you wake up."
Yuuri nodded slowly and began to work on his jacket buttons, his fingers fumbling while he stifled a yawn. Wolfram came forward to help him. Yuuri allowed it, but said, "See, now you're trying to take care of me when I should be helping you."
"Wimp. You can't stop me taking care of you." Because if he wasn't responsible for Yuuri and Greta, he'd have no reason to keep himself together. And it wasn't as if there was anything Yuuri could do for him now.
And so he helped his husband change, touching more than was necessary but less than Yuuri wanted him to, and didn't even notice when he stopped feeling cold and the wet patches on his jacket dried. When the wimp was safely in his pajamas, Wolfram ruffled Yuuri's hair to remove the last of the damp.
"Thanks," said Yuuri, smiling softly.
Wolfram kept his hand buried in that soft darkness. Moved closer. Yuuri's gaze shifted down to his mouth, but he didn't move as Wolfram leaned in-- and stopped just short of his husband's lips.
Yuuri was still-- hardly even breathing. After a moment, he said, "I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I kept pushing--"
"Wimp." Wolfram stepped back. "Don't you dare start crying again. We are not talking about this now."
"But I--"
"Go to sleep, Yuuri."
The High King pouted and turned obediently to crawl into bed. But as he settled under the covers, he looked back at Wolfram. "I love you," he repeated.
Wolfram ran the back of his hand over his eyes. "I know. Go to sleep."
Yuuri looked so unhappy and worried, however, that Wolfram sighed again and sat down at the edge of the bed, causing the other boy to shift closer to him. He let Yuuri take his hand and said quietly, "I'm not going anywhere, Yuuri." His husband nodded slowly, then finally closed his eyes and in seconds sunk into the deep sleep of magical exhaustion. He would be out for hours.
Wolfram sat for a while longer, watching Yuuri sleep and wondering what he was going to do.
Maybe Yuuri would divorce him anyway, when he fulfilled his promise to Greta.
Greta. He was supposed to deliver that letter... He'd forgotten completely. Caught up in himself. He was getting even more selfish and stupid than his husband.
He found the letter still in the pocket of the jacket he'd been wearing. Soaked through, of course, as he'd forgotten to protect it. But the ink and paper were of good quality and it didn't seem to be ruined. Finding Anissina was almost as easy, though it involved walking nearly the whole length of the castle twice-- He learned from her laboratory assistant that she was speaking with Gwendal in his office.
He could tell, when he came in, that they'd been talking about him. He wondered how many people were.
"Your Highness," said Anissina, with a brief smile. "How is the princess?"
"She... She'll be alright. She wrote you." He held out the soggy envelope. "It's wet-- I'm sorry-- Traveling between the worlds..."
"Oh!" She took the letter eagerly. "Thank you, Your Highness. Excuse me." She nodded respectfully to Wolfram and Gwendal, and as she left she was already tearing open the seal.
Wolfram hovered, waiting to be dismissed by his older brother, then remembered he was king, then didn't know quite what to do with himself. He hadn't been able to meet Anissina's eye, and he couldn't even look at Gwendal now. He turned to the door. But then he heard Gwendal get up from his desk.
"Wolfram," said his brother from behind him. "I'm not going to ask you to tell me what happened while you were gone. Just remember that whatever it was, it will happen again if you don't do something to stop it."
I know. Wolfram swallowed. "... It's between me and Yuuri." Once again, his tone had defied him and he sounded pathetic.
"Nothing is ever solely between a king and his spouse, as you well know. A month ago you went to great lengths to be sure that everyone knew you were celebrating your wedding night. Now you come back from what looks like a late honeymoon, acting like a beaten mistress."
It was true. He couldn't deny it, though now it felt like it really had been a month since he'd been so sure... But it had been less than two days, and he was suddenly aware of the bruises that were not quite hidden between his hair and collar. He'd been proud of the marks just yesterday. Now they reminded him that he belonged to someone else.
Gwendal had never approved of the trade Wolfram had agreed to in marrying Yuuri-- his body for a crown. Now Wolfram understood why. Because it wasn't what he'd prepared himself for in the beginning all those years ago-- lie back and submit and think of the kingdom. Nor was it the closeness he'd wanted so desperately since getting to know Yuuri. No; what he'd ended up with was confusion. And no way out.
Just like before.
Of course Gwendal would be able to see it happening again. Although he still didn't know what had gone on for years behind his back-- Wolfram liked to think that if Gwendal had suspected anything close to the truth, Conrad wouldn't be here now-- he and everyone else had noticed that there was something off about Wolfram and Conrad's relationship.
Wolfram's relatives in Belefield had noticed to the point that they'd started to make accusations. Wolfram hadn't understood most of what was going on at the time, because no one seemed to want to tell him the whole truth, but in the end he'd been given a choice: Go to live with his father's family, or stay in the capital and lose any claim to Belefield. Of course he'd chosen to stay. He was still a child in most ways and wouldn't have voluntarily left his mother and brothers and the castle he'd grown up in.
But Gwendal had wanted something better for him. Wolfram remembered a conversation he'd overheard in this same office thirty years ago--
"Don't tell me you believe what they're saying." Conrad's voice, cocky, self-assured. "You can't think I would lay a hand on my own brother. You know this has more to do with my blood than anything else."
"Of course it does," Gwendal had replied evenly. "But you have to admit, you do hold a lot of influence over him. More than you should. It isn't normal."
"What can I do about it if the kid wants to follow me around? And what about you-- He does everything you tell him."
"But I don't tell him to go chasing after coin purses at the bottom of the river."
"I fished him out eventually," said Conrad defensively. After a pause, he added, all swagger gone from his voice, "And how was I supposed to know he couldn't swim? Why did he jump in when he can't swim?"
"That's precisely the point," said Gwendal. "He did it because you told him to. It's not healthy."
"It's not my fault he's got no common sense."
Gwendal sighed. "Conrad, you and I have a duty to Wolfram. And neither of us has been there as much as we should or would like... But it's our job to make sure he makes the right decisions." A pause. "We need to convince him to go to Belefield."
"What? No. No, he chose to stay with us."
"And do you think he considered his future in the ten seconds it took him to shake his head at their offer? Here, he's a third son. In Belefield, he'll be the sole heir-- ruling in a few decades."
"No." Conrad sounded almost panicked. "He belongs here. We're his family."
"So are they."
Conrad hadn't bothered to keep arguing. Instead, he'd burst through the doors, almost running into Wolfram where he stood eavesdropping.
"Wolf," he said, eyes wide, cheeks pale. He took Wolfram's face in his hands. "You don't want to leave me, do you?"
"No," Wolfram breathed. How could he want to leave someone who loved him this much? Even if he did hurt him, more and more...
Conrad sighed in relief, and smiled. "Of course not. Because you're mine, aren't you, Wolf?"
"Yes," said Wolfram. Nothing was truer.
And maybe somewhere between the accusations of Wolfram's relatives and the logic of Gwendal's warnings, Conrad began to feel guilty for what he was doing, because for several weeks after that he didn't pull Wolfram into deserted corridors or behind trees. It was a relief at first, but soon enough Conrad was finding other ways to prove that he had more control over Wolfram's body than Wolfram did. And Wolfram had felt he would rather have bruises at the back of his throat than shining on his face for all the world to see. So-- though Wolfram was sure he would never stop hating himself for it-- he had dropped to his knees one day of his own accord, and whatever resolve Conrad might have had disappeared at the sight of his little brother looking up at him and wetting his lips.
So everything had returned to normal, except that now Wolfram had no inheritance. It didn't seem to matter much at the time, because it was hard to think about the future, to imagine that anything could exist beyond Conrad. Which was why Conrad's departure had left him...
Well, it had left him like this.
And everyone could see it.
"Well," said Wolfram, when he'd found his voice, "gossips have to talk about something. They'll be grateful I'm giving them such a show."
"Wolfram--"
He let his forehead fall against the closed door. "What do you want me to do? He would never grant me a divorce." It was hard to breathe. "And... I don't think I want him to." Even though the little things Yuuri had done that Wolfram had forgiven, attributed to clumsiness driven by the kinds of feelings Wolfram wanted Yuuri to have, all made him feel sick now. It was no longer the least bit endearing that Yuuri couldn't keep his hands off his husband.
"No," Gwendal agreed, "I don't think that's an option. For one thing, he has your daughter." A hand on his shoulder. "But you have to find some way to keep yourself together. You promised me not so long ago that His Majesty wasn't your only source of happiness."
Wolfram squeezed his eyes shut. The other was Greta. And now she was so far out of his reach... Yuuri had done that, too.
But Gwendal was right. Wolfram straightened up and said, "I'll take care of it, Brother. You won't have to tell me again." He stayed a moment longer before he shook off Gwendal's touch.
* * *
Yuuri's empty stomach woke him that evening. When he opened his eyes, he found Wolfram sitting on the floor some feet away, his legs drawn up to his chest and his arms crossed over his knees, supporting his head. When he heard Yuuri sit up, he jumped a little and looked up quickly.
"You're awake," he said, then looked away again as Yuuri nodded. After another moment, he took a breath and said, "Look... I've thought about it, and I don't know why you want to know so badly about something that happened three decades ago, but since you do... I think you should ask him."
"What?" Yuuri tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. "You mean Conrad?"
Intead of snapping at him, Wolfram nodded, and said, "You're going to have to talk to him sometime. He's your friend. And it will save me having to... I don't know, give details or whatever it is you want."
"Alright," said Yuuri cautiously, after a moment. "But I'd rather hear it from you."
"Hear what from me? I don't know what you want me to say!"
"I just..." Yuuri had had some fantasy that if he could just get Wolfram to Talk About It, then he would open up, break down, tell Yuuri everything and what he needed to do to make it better. But this was Wolfram; of course it would be more difficult. "Don't you think it would help?"
Wolfram's pale cheeks were tinged with pink, which was at least more familiar than the strange distance of earlier. "Help with what?"
"With... With you and me and what happened last night..."
Wolfram stood abruptly. "It has nothing to do with what happened last night." He crossed his arms and began to pace.
Yuuri took a deep breath and said calmly, "I think it does. There's a reason you did something you didn't want--"
"I did it because you wanted me to."
"I didn't--"
His husband whirled around. "You did! You enjoyed it!"
"I wouldn't have if I'd known-- But you didn't let me look!"
Heat building in the room, but worse than usual-- erratic, metallic, coming in flashes-- the magic of a child with power out of his control. "So you admit it," Wolfram hissed. "You wanted to see-- to see me on my knees--"
"No!"
"You'd think," Wolfram went on, ignoring him, eyes rimmed with red, the air sparking around him, "that after all I've done for you-- everything I gave up-- But you still want to see me humiliated!"
"WOLFRAM!" Yuuri finally stood. He had to struggle to keep his own magic at bay, to resist the urge to force Wolfram to understand... "You know that's not true. You're just having trouble trusting me right now because of what your brother did to you."
Wolfram snarled, and a three-foot flame burst into existence in the air between them before fading just as quickly. "Stop pretending I'm being irrational. As if I'm the one-- As if you've never given me reason not to trust you before. As if you've always stopped when I told you to. As if you've always cared what I wanted. As if you weren't always just interested in fucking."
Yuuri buried his face in his hands. "No," he said weakly. "No, I never meant to do any of that..." Surely Wolfram believed him, somewhere, deep down... "You know that. You know I'd never want to hurt you. You married me--"
"Because I'm stupid," Wolfram spat. "I'm stupid and weak and I'm so fucking in love with you I can't--" He cut himself off with a strangled sound.
The ringing silence was almost a relief after so much. Yuuri tried to focus on his own breathing.
He should let Wolfram go. He had no right to ask him to stay. This was all wrong...
"I'm sorry."
Yuuri looked up, shocked.
"That was unnecessary," Wolfram went on. His arms, which had escaped to form fists while he was yelling, were folded once more securely across his chest. He was looking away, but holding his head high. Suddenly royalty again.
Yuuri didn't like it. "At least you were being honest," he said.
"No," said Wolfram coldly, "I was being childish."
"So now you're just going to take it all back?"
Wolfram didn't answer.
Yuuri sat down again, with a sigh that was almost a groan. "So what do we do now?" he asked, afraid of the response.
But his husband finally looked at him, albeit reservedly, and said, "We go to dinner." Then he turned to the door. "Of course, you'll have to get dressed for that." And before Yuuri could say a thing, he had gone.
* * *
Wolfram closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall outside their door, trying to slow his frantic heart rate. He couldn't even remember what all he'd said-- just that it was too much. And some of it he believed, and some of it he didn't.
Yes, Yuuri loved him. But so had Conrad. In Wolfram's experience, that only made it all more dangerous, made it easier for Yuuri to hurt Wolfram, harder for Wolfram to defend himself-- harder for him to want to.
Impossible for him to escape.
There was nothing he could do. He knew he would forgive Yuuri-- maybe he already had-- just because seeing Yuuri in pain hurt too much.
Once, Gwendal had told Wolfram not to be like him, and given him the button from their brother's sleeve. Wolfram had obeyed. He'd screamed, gone recklessly after Yuuri, let himself fall even more in love and didn't bother to hide it, called Conrad his brother, wept when Yuuri left them all-- He'd taken it too far, as he always did. Gwendal had to tell him to stop. To live for something besides Yuuri...
And Wolfram had thought he'd found a balance. Loving Yuuri, being devoted as a soldier and as his fiancé, while still saving something of himself-- for Greta, for his own pride. But it had still been too much. He should have recognized long ago that he was never in control when Yuuri was around, and that that was dangerous.
There was a saying-- "Never fall in love with your king or your whore." It was usually quoted by parents trying to steer their children away from economically inappropriate matches, but that didn't mean it wasn't good advice. He'd been so stupid to think that because it was Yuuri, the difference in power wouldn't matter. Power always mattered.
The bedroom door opened, and Yuuri emerged, dressed and looking miserable. He tried to catch Wolfram's eye, but Wolfram looked away. He didn't know which would be worse-- if what he saw in Yuuri's face made him trust Yuuri completely once again... or if it didn't, and never would.
"Conrad's going to be there," said Yuuri quietly.
Wolfram pushed off from the wall and started down the corridor. "Of course he is."
They walked in silence for a while, Yuuri still trailing behind. Then, when they were almost at the dining room, Yuuri said, "Do you still want me to talk to him?"
"I don't care what you do," said Wolfram, and opened the door for him.
Yuuri paused as everyone else, already assembled at the table, stood for their entrance. But once again Wolfram avoided his eye, so Yuuri inhaled bracingly and walked past him to his seat.
Wolfram followed, trying to keep his head high, conscious again of looking, as Gwendal had put it, "like a beaten mistress". He still couldn't look at anyone directly, however, and so ended up almost as vulnerable as he'd been that morning.
Yuuri's face was pale as he gave a weak sort of greeting and took his seat, allowing first Wolfram, then everyone else, to follow. Wolfram was sure everyone noticed at once that Yuuri, too, was now acting strangely. He didn't even try to cover up his awkwardness with chatting or forced laughter-- which meant that the whole table was more or less silent, with only the occasional remark or inquiry that politeness required. Yuuri never once looked to his left, where Conrad sat.
He did look at Wolfram far more than was necessary, which was almost irritating enough to distract him from the fact that he couldn't taste anything because it all tasted the same-- It had been like that all day, and he hated it because it had happened before. All he could taste was-- Well, he supposed that now it was Yuuri, though it used to be Conrad, or himself... It was always essentially the same.
Always the same. His head spun and he set down his water glass before he dropped it. Suddenly all he could think about was how much he didn't want to be alone with Yuuri. Because Yuuri would want to talk and Wolfram would want to shut him up and so Wolfram would offer and Yuuri would want-- And it would all happen again, over and over, and Wolfram wouldn't be able to taste anything else for the rest of his life.
Next to him, Yuuri seemed to have given up both on eating and on watching his husband. He was instead staring at the tablecloth, his hands twisting the napkin in his lap, and his lip worrying between his teeth.
Wimp. This was public enough without Yuuri giving up completely on hiding it.
Wolfram leaned in and hissed, "Stop thinking about it!" What right did Yuuri have to be thinking about it anyways? It was Wolfram's past, not his. Wolfram hadn't even wanted him to know; let alone did he want Yuuri imagining things...
Yuuri stopped chewing his lip to take a gasping breath. "I can't," he said.-- Loud enough for everyone to hear. Then seemed to realize his mistake. His eyes grew wide for a moment and he muttered, "I'm sorry," and stood up before Wolfram could stop him.
And he finally did look over at Conrad, just once, briefly, before turning and fleeing the room.
Wolfram rested his head in his hands in the stunned silence.
"Co--" He stopped himself, cleared his throat. "Weller," he said, not looking up. "Go talk to him. Tell him... Tell him I sent you."
After a short pause, he heard the older man get up and follow his king.
"Wolfram..." His mother's voice. "What's wrong?"
He raised his head and shook it. "He'll be fine." And he returned to his meal, avoiding Gwendal's eyes.
* * *
Yuuri ran in the dark until he tripped on some stone in the courtyard and came crashing down, landing hard on his palms. He didn't move for several minutes, breathing hard enough to make himself dizzy.
Someone else was there, crouching down beside him, a hand on his back, saying his name.
Conrad.
"Yuuri," he said again, sounding worried. "Are you alright? What's going on?"
Yuuri closed his eyes. "Did Wolfram tell you to talk to me?"
"... Yes. Why?"
"He... He wants me to ask you... He doesn't want to tell me, so he told me to ask you..."
Conrad's voice was low, almost frightened. "Ask me what, Yuuri?"
"But I wanted him to talk to me, and he won't-- I don't know what to do..." Yuuri sat back on the cool ground, and gave in to the temptation to lean against his friend. Conrad held him, and for a few minutes there was silence except for the last of the crickets in the grass. Conrad was still Conrad. He was just as he'd always been, only now Yuuri knew more about what that was. Or used to be.
"Yuuri," said Conrad finally, "what are you supposed to ask me?"
But he didn't need to ask, not really, because he already knew more than he wanted to. Unless...
"Maybe it isn't true," he said. "Maybe Wolfram made it up, like a false memory..." He looked up at the older man's face, trying to read his expression in the light from the castle. "Did you-- Did you really do that to him?"
Conrad's features hardened in a way that reminded Yuuri forcefully of swords and Great Shimeron and a white coat. But Yuuri knew that look now. It sent a shiver down his back, and had probably helped Conrad earn his reputation on the battlefield, but all it was, really, was Conrad's own self-hatred.
Yuuri stood up.
The truth was, there had been hints all along. Little things Wolfram had said, warnings-- You don't know his past, he'd said about Conrad, so long ago. Yuuri had always assumed that referred to the war, but now it occurred to him that Wolfram thought war was honorable. And then there was the way Wolfram had always been more suspicious and-- Yuuri saw now-- scared of Conrad's attentions to Yuuri than anyone else's. And now several instances came to mind of, over the years, Wolfram being reluctant to leave Greta alone with Conrad.
Yuuri had started walking without realizing it. Conrad was still behind him, walking with him. Yuuri remembered that even if Conrad wanted to leave him alone, he couldn't. Someone had to protect the High King.
He didn't know what to say, so he kept walking.
* * *
Chapter VII, part 2
Back to chapter VI
Back to chapter I