Kyou Kara Maou: To Sleep (Gwendal, Conrart, Wolfram)
Title: To Sleep
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou
Characters/Pairings: Gwendal, Conrart, Wolfram
Rating: PG
Summary: Older brothers are supposed to take care of the younger, but sometimes things can't be fixed.
To Sleep
"Gwendal," Conrart called from the doorway, leaning inwards. He was silhouetted from the candles in the hallway, halo about his head and shining through his loose shirt. Gwendal stared at him for a long moment, bleary eyed, before sitting up in bed.
"What is it, Conrart?"
"Wolfram's had a nightmare," Conrart said, edging into the room. "He's been screaming."
Gwendal felt his stomach turn to ice. Nightmares were bad. Nightmares meant Wolfram wasn't Wolfram anymore, wouldn't be for hours or days, dark eyed and cold. "Which room," Gwendal asked, pushing back his blankets, "is he in?"
"His," Conrart said, and he followed Gwendal through the hallways, quiet and grim.
Wolfram was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs pulled up, arms wrapped around his legs. His head was resting on his knees, and he was looking away from the door, towards the far wall.
"Wolfram?" Gwendal asked, stepping close, and after a moment Wolfram's eyes blinked. Gwendal sat on the edge of the bed, a couple hands-breadth from Wolfram, and watched as Conrart circled the room, lighting candles.
"Wolfram," Gwendal said again, when Conrart was standing next to him, leaning against a bedpost. "Look at me, Wolfram."
Wolfram's shoulders shuddered, stilled, then shuddered again. Gwendal hesitated, hand half-lifted, and when Conrart shifted next to him Gwendal reached out, grabbed Wolfram's shoulder.
Wolfram's face was hot and damp against Gwendal's shirt, soaking through to his skin, and Gwendal closed his eyes against the sight of Wolfram shaking. But Wolfram kept shaking in his arms, like he was laughing, or crying, or neither and both, all together at once.
"Brother," Wolfram said, voice strained, "sometimes I don't know who I am."
"Wolfram," Gwendal said, "hush. Sleep, we'll stay here."
"But who," Wolfram asked, and his voice was muffled and desperate, "am I?"
"Our brother," Conrart said, and he was crouching close, a hand on Wolfram's shoulder, another on Wolfram's head, tousling blond hair. "Always our brother."
Wolfram shook, and Wolfram screamed, and Gwendal held onto him, saying, "hush, hush, sleep, hush," and Conrart said, "we're here, we're here, you're our brother, we're here."
The morning was long in coming.
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou
Characters/Pairings: Gwendal, Conrart, Wolfram
Rating: PG
Summary: Older brothers are supposed to take care of the younger, but sometimes things can't be fixed.
To Sleep
"Gwendal," Conrart called from the doorway, leaning inwards. He was silhouetted from the candles in the hallway, halo about his head and shining through his loose shirt. Gwendal stared at him for a long moment, bleary eyed, before sitting up in bed.
"What is it, Conrart?"
"Wolfram's had a nightmare," Conrart said, edging into the room. "He's been screaming."
Gwendal felt his stomach turn to ice. Nightmares were bad. Nightmares meant Wolfram wasn't Wolfram anymore, wouldn't be for hours or days, dark eyed and cold. "Which room," Gwendal asked, pushing back his blankets, "is he in?"
"His," Conrart said, and he followed Gwendal through the hallways, quiet and grim.
Wolfram was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs pulled up, arms wrapped around his legs. His head was resting on his knees, and he was looking away from the door, towards the far wall.
"Wolfram?" Gwendal asked, stepping close, and after a moment Wolfram's eyes blinked. Gwendal sat on the edge of the bed, a couple hands-breadth from Wolfram, and watched as Conrart circled the room, lighting candles.
"Wolfram," Gwendal said again, when Conrart was standing next to him, leaning against a bedpost. "Look at me, Wolfram."
Wolfram's shoulders shuddered, stilled, then shuddered again. Gwendal hesitated, hand half-lifted, and when Conrart shifted next to him Gwendal reached out, grabbed Wolfram's shoulder.
Wolfram's face was hot and damp against Gwendal's shirt, soaking through to his skin, and Gwendal closed his eyes against the sight of Wolfram shaking. But Wolfram kept shaking in his arms, like he was laughing, or crying, or neither and both, all together at once.
"Brother," Wolfram said, voice strained, "sometimes I don't know who I am."
"Wolfram," Gwendal said, "hush. Sleep, we'll stay here."
"But who," Wolfram asked, and his voice was muffled and desperate, "am I?"
"Our brother," Conrart said, and he was crouching close, a hand on Wolfram's shoulder, another on Wolfram's head, tousling blond hair. "Always our brother."
Wolfram shook, and Wolfram screamed, and Gwendal held onto him, saying, "hush, hush, sleep, hush," and Conrart said, "we're here, we're here, you're our brother, we're here."
The morning was long in coming.