(no subject)
Titled: Bottomless Box
Pairing: Yuuri/Wolfram one sided, Yuuri/OFC
Rating: T or General
Warning: angst
Summary: It was like putting things into a bottomless box and waiting for the box to be filled.
Rating: T or General
Warning: angst
Summary: It was like putting things into a bottomless box and waiting for the box to be filled.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Tomo Takabayashi dan various publishers and studios. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Note: this is my entry for fanfic100, prompt: 34, not enough.
Also, I have no beta for this story, so please bear with me. I apologize in advance for mistakes inside said story.
Bottomless Box
From his position at the balcony, he could see the royal family strolling at the garden below far too clearly.
There was Heika, his black hair was slowly being decorated with a few whites. Some said, the silverfish streaks were because of the recent series of conflicts against human, but those who were close to Heika knew the truth. His customary black clothes were unchanged through the years and so did the kindness on his eyes, although later there was some calm to replace the impulsiveness there and some tired lines around said eyes.
Heika looked adoringly at the young boy who tugged on his hand every now and then, fully intended on showing something or other to his father. His look was a carbon copy of his father’s, if one would ignore his mother blue eyes. The enthusiasm he showed to things that had caught his interest was also a perfect replica of what had been seen of Heika’s attitude towards baseball on those first years of his arrival at Shin Makoku.
Walking beside Heika was little Greta who was actually not so little anymore. She had become a beautiful teenager, but her daddy-can-do-no-wrong-and-can-fix-everything attitudes had never perished. It was a common joke among the people in Blood Pledge Castle, that if Heika wanted to have a son-in-law, he should bring Greta back to Earth, because any man unlike her daddy wouldn’t have a chance on capturing the teenager’s heart.
The little princess, shy of three years old yet often time still acted as if she was younger than one year old, was nestled on her usual place, Greta’s arms. In contrast to her brother, she had inherited her mother’s coloring and look. Yet, if one peered at her closely, one would find faint traces of Heika on her face, like the shape of her mouth.
Sometimes, when he could, he pitied her. It was her misfortune, to be born exactly at the time her parents’ marriage cracked. The queen rarely if ever spared a time for her. It was always Greta or the maids who were taking care of her, which maybe contributed for her spoilt, bratty attitude. Sometimes, looking at her making him remembered another child whose mother was always busy. A boy that felt so alone no matter how many mazokus were there at the palace and did everything he could to attract attention, because even becoming an irritant was still better than nothing, right?
Then there were the queen, walking more sedately behind Heika. She was, like usual, wearing clothes that were costing more than most people's monthly salary. The sun shone down on her jewelries, making them glittering and sparkling. He had heard many late night fights between Gwendal, Gunter and Heika, regarding his queen's life style. For a woman who only come from a minor noble family, she was sure more extravagant than his own mother. She loved jewelries and silks and he bet her collection could feed a town for months. She had gowns and shoes every color there was. Once, Gwendal even said that soon or later she would be the downfall of the kingdom, financially at least. Even Gunter, who normally acted as if the king could do no wrong, had had his share of quarrel with Heika over her.
She, he noted, didn't pay any attention both to the children in front of her and to her husband. Her expression was bored with her chin lifted high, as if her family could mean less than nothing for her. Yet, an observant watcher would see that she followed the soldier who walked a little behind them secretly with the corners of her eyes.
He was young and blond and even he had to admit, beautiful. Moreover, he knew what to say and how to woo a woman and made her felt like the center of the world, a thing that Heika, with all his feeling on his eyes and his heart on his sleeves, was sadly lack.
The queen's lover, the maids had secretly dubbed him. He went to her bedchamber at night, they said. Yet, no one had said anything in front of the king. Maybe because they didn't want to hurt him, believing that like always, he had been oblivious to things that happened right in front of his face. Perhaps, because they were afraid of what he would do if he was to find out, changing into the ‘maou’ and wreaked havoc. Yet there was also possible that they, dreamers that they were, somehow still held hope that woman would cease the affair by herself.
Five years ago, Heika had loved her so fiercely. He had lost to her charm the night they met and started to court her at the same night. He had broken their engagement, argued with Gwendal (how could you do that to Wolfram, for a foreigner no less, a girl you had known nothing about), assured Conrad that it was for the best, and appealed to everybody that he had right to love and to choose whom to love.
Sometimes Wolfram was tempted to ask, whether Heika still loved that woman so much even at that moment. He wanted to know if that woman, with her selfish behaviors and infidelity, could still make Heika happier than he, Wolfram, ever did.
He could and had, offered a lot to Heika -- not that Heika appreciated or even accepted most of them, but he had tried. Yes, Heika now. He had lost the right to call him Yuuri the day Heika announced to all and sundry that he didn't want to be engaged with Wolfram von Bielefeld. That their engagement was null and void and he loved another, as if Wolfram was a burden being forced on him.
Well maybe it was true, that he was nothing more than a heavy stone tied to Heika’s leg. Heika surely never wanted him. Still, unlike stone, he had, unfortunately, had a heart. A heart that Heika, living merrily on his fairytale’s land, had did his best to deny its existence.
He had followed Heika faithfully, protected him with his sword and his life. He had been there when Heika laughed and cried. He had let Heika go once, so Heika could be back on Earth with his family. He had offered aforementioned heart and so would his body if Heika so desired.
But somehow, he felt as if all Heika could ever see were his defects and weaknesses. Heika wanted children, children that Wolfram had no hope of ever conceived. Heika wanted a different shape of body, something Wolfram had no power to change. Heika wanted someone he loved and no matter how hard Wolfram had tried, he was not that someone.
He had been angry, raving and ranting, burning everything in his path. He had been in denial, pretending that it all was simply a nightmare and he was still the royal-consort-to-be. He had cried, although in private, spending many nights sobbing himself to sleep. Despair had come and gone, bringing with it a bunch of wine bottles and causing Gwendal and Conrad to secretly (or so they thought) keeping a suicide watch over him.
In the end, it was somehow strange yet so appropriate to realize that no matter how much Heika hurt him, he would always, always loved the black haired king.
The first year of Heika's marriage was maybe the pinnacle of happiness for said king. He finally had the perfect, loveable wife he had always wanted. The queen also gave him a baby boy, whose mention about always put a goofy smile on Heika’s face for a long time afterwards. Heika’s happiness was so blinding that at times, Wolfram could forgive the woman for being the one who Heika wanted, despite the hurt it brought.
Still, it was the worst year for Wolfram. He had vanished into the background, a shadow on everybody’s colorful lives. He watched how Heika was fawning over his wife and playing with his children. He listened to Greta calling that woman mom. No longer had she came to Wolfram first to tell him all about her day or to read her Anissina’s new story. She got the family she had dreamed of.
Yet, no honeymoon lasted forever. The first crack on the picture happened not long after the princess’ birth a year later. It was, although Heika would deny it ferociously, in human nature to be greedy and to forget, thus repeating history over and over. It began as some unknown band of human thieves and ended up as endless skirmishes on the borders.
Years didn’t change a lot of Heika. He still loved to run head first into the first sight of trouble. No, there was no delegation for him. He had to be there, had to do something.
The queen, on the other hand, was not so fond of rocking boats and common inns. A thing Wolfram, loathed though he was to admit it, could commiserate.
In the beginning, the king had insisted that she came. While Heika had always thought of his existence as an unnecessary addition, sometimes even as an additional trouble when sea sickness made him puke and more irritating than usual, Heika had wanted, even needed the queen to accompany him. Heika had wanted to share his adventures with her, even if she could not protect Heika like Wolfram could nor she could offer any insight to solve the problems.
At first, she had came along, all sour face and whiny voice that Heika had translated as endearing and cute. So contrast with how his complains had used to be translated as annoying and spoilt. It seemed that beauty, or in this case attitude, was really on the eye of the beholder.
Those days, Wolfram had really tempted to stay back at the castle. Sea journeys always made him miserable enough, without the addition of seeing Heika catered to his new queen’s every whim while he usually ignored Wolfram’s uneasy stomach. Still, he was still Shin Makoku’s soldier, wasn’t he? How if something was happened to Heika on the journey? So, he had boarded the ship and spent most of his time hiding on his room, avoiding Heika. Not, of course, that said Heika realized that, drowning that he was on the newly wed’s bliss.
Then the princess was born and she had gotten a perfect, ready-made excuse to decline. She had to be home taking care of the newborn baby. Besides, the little prince was still a toddler. Heika understood, didn’t he, that she could not abandon the children, their children.
Heika had relented. The children were, after all, his obvious soft spot.
Yet, the queen never spent her time with the little prince and princess. Greta took care of them, practically raising them. Anissina read them stories and babysat them, like she had done with Greta years ago. The maids kept them entertained and Gunter made sure they were taken after. Even Conrad, once or twice, was caught with the prince on his lap, playing with some toys or others.
For himself, Wolfram couldn’t bear to play with them the kids. They were guiltless, but still a bitter reminder about his defects, his reasons for being rejected. Instead, he secretly watched over them. He maybe didn’t like the kids but they were Heika’s, so he needed to keep the capital safe for them. Heika would be heartbroken if something happened to them, so he would protect them with all that he had.
It had seemed like only a baseless rumor at first. The maids were, like usual, the first to whisper about it. The queen was paying too much attention on the newest recruit. He was seen visiting her bed chamber. Yet, like any other rumors, nobody could say anything for sure.
Only, it lasted longer than a gossip normally does. Slowly, nobody could ignore it anymore. Nobody except Heika, that was.
People had talked behind Heika’s back, betting on the reason he let his queen’s treacherous behavior. The romantics had said that Heika loved her so much that he chose to let her have her way than to lose her. This theory had both slice Wolfram’s heart and made him wanted to knock some sense into Heika’s head. Still, who was he to talk? For despite his accusations and angers, despite Heika’s marriage and clear rejection, he still kept the black haired king dear in his heart.
Some more practical had argued that Heika was simply being his normal self, too blind to see whatever he didn’t want to see. Despite making him wanted to scream, Wolfram could accept this one. Heika was never the one for seeing the things that were right in front of his eyes.
Still, whatever the reason was, the fact was staying the same. Heika had chosen her, a cheating woman who maybe never even loved Heika more than Wolfram had and would always do.
“He is stupid, you know,” said a voice from behind him.
Wolfram didn't turn around. He knew that voice well. Funny thing, grief was. It made you unable to turn away comfort, even if the giver was a half blood.
“I know,” Wolfram replied.
Yes, he knew that people, for once, had stood on his side. He had heard how the whispers changed, from him being the scary, cruel fiancé who forced his way and stood on the way of Heika and his one true love, to him being the kind, devoted lover who had been cheated and treated unfairly.
Yet deep inside, he knew that it wouldn't change anything. Love was a cruelly partial thing. It didn't matter if he gave more because in Heika's eyes, he would always be not good enough. It doesn’t matter that he could offer more, since Heika didn’t need nor wanted his offering. It was like putting things into a bottomless box and waiting for the box to be filled.
“I know,” he repeated, blinking tears from his eyes. He felt his brother’s arm coming around his shoulder, and allowed himself a rare moment of weakness. Below, the royal family was continuing their stroll. The black hair king was laughing at something his son said, oblivious to a pair of emerald eyes that were watching him from the shadow provided by the balcony’s pillars, like always.
Pairing: Yuuri/Wolfram one sided, Yuuri/OFC
Rating: T or General
Warning: angst
Summary: It was like putting things into a bottomless box and waiting for the box to be filled.
Rating: T or General
Warning: angst
Summary: It was like putting things into a bottomless box and waiting for the box to be filled.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Tomo Takabayashi dan various publishers and studios. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Note: this is my entry for fanfic100, prompt: 34, not enough.
Also, I have no beta for this story, so please bear with me. I apologize in advance for mistakes inside said story.
Bottomless Box
From his position at the balcony, he could see the royal family strolling at the garden below far too clearly.
There was Heika, his black hair was slowly being decorated with a few whites. Some said, the silverfish streaks were because of the recent series of conflicts against human, but those who were close to Heika knew the truth. His customary black clothes were unchanged through the years and so did the kindness on his eyes, although later there was some calm to replace the impulsiveness there and some tired lines around said eyes.
Heika looked adoringly at the young boy who tugged on his hand every now and then, fully intended on showing something or other to his father. His look was a carbon copy of his father’s, if one would ignore his mother blue eyes. The enthusiasm he showed to things that had caught his interest was also a perfect replica of what had been seen of Heika’s attitude towards baseball on those first years of his arrival at Shin Makoku.
Walking beside Heika was little Greta who was actually not so little anymore. She had become a beautiful teenager, but her daddy-can-do-no-wrong-and-can-fix-everything attitudes had never perished. It was a common joke among the people in Blood Pledge Castle, that if Heika wanted to have a son-in-law, he should bring Greta back to Earth, because any man unlike her daddy wouldn’t have a chance on capturing the teenager’s heart.
The little princess, shy of three years old yet often time still acted as if she was younger than one year old, was nestled on her usual place, Greta’s arms. In contrast to her brother, she had inherited her mother’s coloring and look. Yet, if one peered at her closely, one would find faint traces of Heika on her face, like the shape of her mouth.
Sometimes, when he could, he pitied her. It was her misfortune, to be born exactly at the time her parents’ marriage cracked. The queen rarely if ever spared a time for her. It was always Greta or the maids who were taking care of her, which maybe contributed for her spoilt, bratty attitude. Sometimes, looking at her making him remembered another child whose mother was always busy. A boy that felt so alone no matter how many mazokus were there at the palace and did everything he could to attract attention, because even becoming an irritant was still better than nothing, right?
Then there were the queen, walking more sedately behind Heika. She was, like usual, wearing clothes that were costing more than most people's monthly salary. The sun shone down on her jewelries, making them glittering and sparkling. He had heard many late night fights between Gwendal, Gunter and Heika, regarding his queen's life style. For a woman who only come from a minor noble family, she was sure more extravagant than his own mother. She loved jewelries and silks and he bet her collection could feed a town for months. She had gowns and shoes every color there was. Once, Gwendal even said that soon or later she would be the downfall of the kingdom, financially at least. Even Gunter, who normally acted as if the king could do no wrong, had had his share of quarrel with Heika over her.
She, he noted, didn't pay any attention both to the children in front of her and to her husband. Her expression was bored with her chin lifted high, as if her family could mean less than nothing for her. Yet, an observant watcher would see that she followed the soldier who walked a little behind them secretly with the corners of her eyes.
He was young and blond and even he had to admit, beautiful. Moreover, he knew what to say and how to woo a woman and made her felt like the center of the world, a thing that Heika, with all his feeling on his eyes and his heart on his sleeves, was sadly lack.
The queen's lover, the maids had secretly dubbed him. He went to her bedchamber at night, they said. Yet, no one had said anything in front of the king. Maybe because they didn't want to hurt him, believing that like always, he had been oblivious to things that happened right in front of his face. Perhaps, because they were afraid of what he would do if he was to find out, changing into the ‘maou’ and wreaked havoc. Yet there was also possible that they, dreamers that they were, somehow still held hope that woman would cease the affair by herself.
Five years ago, Heika had loved her so fiercely. He had lost to her charm the night they met and started to court her at the same night. He had broken their engagement, argued with Gwendal (how could you do that to Wolfram, for a foreigner no less, a girl you had known nothing about), assured Conrad that it was for the best, and appealed to everybody that he had right to love and to choose whom to love.
Sometimes Wolfram was tempted to ask, whether Heika still loved that woman so much even at that moment. He wanted to know if that woman, with her selfish behaviors and infidelity, could still make Heika happier than he, Wolfram, ever did.
He could and had, offered a lot to Heika -- not that Heika appreciated or even accepted most of them, but he had tried. Yes, Heika now. He had lost the right to call him Yuuri the day Heika announced to all and sundry that he didn't want to be engaged with Wolfram von Bielefeld. That their engagement was null and void and he loved another, as if Wolfram was a burden being forced on him.
Well maybe it was true, that he was nothing more than a heavy stone tied to Heika’s leg. Heika surely never wanted him. Still, unlike stone, he had, unfortunately, had a heart. A heart that Heika, living merrily on his fairytale’s land, had did his best to deny its existence.
He had followed Heika faithfully, protected him with his sword and his life. He had been there when Heika laughed and cried. He had let Heika go once, so Heika could be back on Earth with his family. He had offered aforementioned heart and so would his body if Heika so desired.
But somehow, he felt as if all Heika could ever see were his defects and weaknesses. Heika wanted children, children that Wolfram had no hope of ever conceived. Heika wanted a different shape of body, something Wolfram had no power to change. Heika wanted someone he loved and no matter how hard Wolfram had tried, he was not that someone.
He had been angry, raving and ranting, burning everything in his path. He had been in denial, pretending that it all was simply a nightmare and he was still the royal-consort-to-be. He had cried, although in private, spending many nights sobbing himself to sleep. Despair had come and gone, bringing with it a bunch of wine bottles and causing Gwendal and Conrad to secretly (or so they thought) keeping a suicide watch over him.
In the end, it was somehow strange yet so appropriate to realize that no matter how much Heika hurt him, he would always, always loved the black haired king.
The first year of Heika's marriage was maybe the pinnacle of happiness for said king. He finally had the perfect, loveable wife he had always wanted. The queen also gave him a baby boy, whose mention about always put a goofy smile on Heika’s face for a long time afterwards. Heika’s happiness was so blinding that at times, Wolfram could forgive the woman for being the one who Heika wanted, despite the hurt it brought.
Still, it was the worst year for Wolfram. He had vanished into the background, a shadow on everybody’s colorful lives. He watched how Heika was fawning over his wife and playing with his children. He listened to Greta calling that woman mom. No longer had she came to Wolfram first to tell him all about her day or to read her Anissina’s new story. She got the family she had dreamed of.
Yet, no honeymoon lasted forever. The first crack on the picture happened not long after the princess’ birth a year later. It was, although Heika would deny it ferociously, in human nature to be greedy and to forget, thus repeating history over and over. It began as some unknown band of human thieves and ended up as endless skirmishes on the borders.
Years didn’t change a lot of Heika. He still loved to run head first into the first sight of trouble. No, there was no delegation for him. He had to be there, had to do something.
The queen, on the other hand, was not so fond of rocking boats and common inns. A thing Wolfram, loathed though he was to admit it, could commiserate.
In the beginning, the king had insisted that she came. While Heika had always thought of his existence as an unnecessary addition, sometimes even as an additional trouble when sea sickness made him puke and more irritating than usual, Heika had wanted, even needed the queen to accompany him. Heika had wanted to share his adventures with her, even if she could not protect Heika like Wolfram could nor she could offer any insight to solve the problems.
At first, she had came along, all sour face and whiny voice that Heika had translated as endearing and cute. So contrast with how his complains had used to be translated as annoying and spoilt. It seemed that beauty, or in this case attitude, was really on the eye of the beholder.
Those days, Wolfram had really tempted to stay back at the castle. Sea journeys always made him miserable enough, without the addition of seeing Heika catered to his new queen’s every whim while he usually ignored Wolfram’s uneasy stomach. Still, he was still Shin Makoku’s soldier, wasn’t he? How if something was happened to Heika on the journey? So, he had boarded the ship and spent most of his time hiding on his room, avoiding Heika. Not, of course, that said Heika realized that, drowning that he was on the newly wed’s bliss.
Then the princess was born and she had gotten a perfect, ready-made excuse to decline. She had to be home taking care of the newborn baby. Besides, the little prince was still a toddler. Heika understood, didn’t he, that she could not abandon the children, their children.
Heika had relented. The children were, after all, his obvious soft spot.
Yet, the queen never spent her time with the little prince and princess. Greta took care of them, practically raising them. Anissina read them stories and babysat them, like she had done with Greta years ago. The maids kept them entertained and Gunter made sure they were taken after. Even Conrad, once or twice, was caught with the prince on his lap, playing with some toys or others.
For himself, Wolfram couldn’t bear to play with them the kids. They were guiltless, but still a bitter reminder about his defects, his reasons for being rejected. Instead, he secretly watched over them. He maybe didn’t like the kids but they were Heika’s, so he needed to keep the capital safe for them. Heika would be heartbroken if something happened to them, so he would protect them with all that he had.
It had seemed like only a baseless rumor at first. The maids were, like usual, the first to whisper about it. The queen was paying too much attention on the newest recruit. He was seen visiting her bed chamber. Yet, like any other rumors, nobody could say anything for sure.
Only, it lasted longer than a gossip normally does. Slowly, nobody could ignore it anymore. Nobody except Heika, that was.
People had talked behind Heika’s back, betting on the reason he let his queen’s treacherous behavior. The romantics had said that Heika loved her so much that he chose to let her have her way than to lose her. This theory had both slice Wolfram’s heart and made him wanted to knock some sense into Heika’s head. Still, who was he to talk? For despite his accusations and angers, despite Heika’s marriage and clear rejection, he still kept the black haired king dear in his heart.
Some more practical had argued that Heika was simply being his normal self, too blind to see whatever he didn’t want to see. Despite making him wanted to scream, Wolfram could accept this one. Heika was never the one for seeing the things that were right in front of his eyes.
Still, whatever the reason was, the fact was staying the same. Heika had chosen her, a cheating woman who maybe never even loved Heika more than Wolfram had and would always do.
“He is stupid, you know,” said a voice from behind him.
Wolfram didn't turn around. He knew that voice well. Funny thing, grief was. It made you unable to turn away comfort, even if the giver was a half blood.
“I know,” Wolfram replied.
Yes, he knew that people, for once, had stood on his side. He had heard how the whispers changed, from him being the scary, cruel fiancé who forced his way and stood on the way of Heika and his one true love, to him being the kind, devoted lover who had been cheated and treated unfairly.
Yet deep inside, he knew that it wouldn't change anything. Love was a cruelly partial thing. It didn't matter if he gave more because in Heika's eyes, he would always be not good enough. It doesn’t matter that he could offer more, since Heika didn’t need nor wanted his offering. It was like putting things into a bottomless box and waiting for the box to be filled.
“I know,” he repeated, blinking tears from his eyes. He felt his brother’s arm coming around his shoulder, and allowed himself a rare moment of weakness. Below, the royal family was continuing their stroll. The black hair king was laughing at something his son said, oblivious to a pair of emerald eyes that were watching him from the shadow provided by the balcony’s pillars, like always.