(no subject)
Title: The Lasting Historical Impact of Berthold the Reasonable, 18th Maou of Shin Makoku
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou
Characters: Gunter, Yuuri, Murata
Rating: G
Word Count: 297 -- Just under the wire! \o/
Notes: Requested by Laura in the LJ Truth or Dare Game: Gunter and the epistemology of the Maou's black g-string in under 300 words. ^_^. Laura, don't read this until you've finished episode 32! D: You will be sadly spoiled (because, you know, this show is all about its deep and intricate plot...and NOT the beautiful, sword-fighting boys. No.)
"As you know, Your Majesty, our 18th Maou--"
"Who?"
Gunter sighs. "Berthold the Reasonable. Weren't you paying attention?"
"Oh. Right."
"Yes. So, Berthold. He first decreed upon our nation the proper attire for a Maou. It came about when Berthold was pressing deep into his enemy's..."
Murata watched on as Yuuri's eyes glazed over. He could imagine doubleplays and batting averages cycling through Yuuri's head.
"...into his enemy's territory. Berthold was a noble Maou, and a skilled warrior, very efficient with his long, true..."
Yuuri's eyes scanned the room for escape. The door? Too obvious. The window? Too dangerous. His eyes flitted over Murata's face, but Murata only smiled that knowing smile of his and turned back to his tea.
"...his long, true sword. Yet, tragically, Your Majesty, these skills were not enough to protect him from the cruel mistress that can become of a man's too-large..."
Yuuri scowled at Murata.
"...too-large undergarments."
Yuuri's head popped up. "His what?"
Gunter's lower lip trembled and he dabbed at his teary eyes. "It seems that Berthold had been courting one of the maids in the castle and, in his attempts to, ah, impress her, he ordered the procurement of undergarments that were too large. And such roomy, ah, comfort, is not to one's advantage when handling a horse. He...he fell and was defeated in humiliating fashion."
Murata grinned into his his tea as Yuuri sputtered about the place. He didn't care what the history books said. He'd been there. He'd seen the very decree, had ensured its precise wording himself. He was the strategist, after all. If he occasionally used that to satisfy his own desires...
He remembered rather liking the knowledge that when Shinou, sweet Shinou, rushed into battle, he did so wearing the thong of Murata's own choosing.
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou
Characters: Gunter, Yuuri, Murata
Rating: G
Word Count: 297 -- Just under the wire! \o/
Notes: Requested by Laura in the LJ Truth or Dare Game: Gunter and the epistemology of the Maou's black g-string in under 300 words. ^_^. Laura, don't read this until you've finished episode 32! D: You will be sadly spoiled (because, you know, this show is all about its deep and intricate plot...and NOT the beautiful, sword-fighting boys. No.)
"As you know, Your Majesty, our 18th Maou--"
"Who?"
Gunter sighs. "Berthold the Reasonable. Weren't you paying attention?"
"Oh. Right."
"Yes. So, Berthold. He first decreed upon our nation the proper attire for a Maou. It came about when Berthold was pressing deep into his enemy's..."
Murata watched on as Yuuri's eyes glazed over. He could imagine doubleplays and batting averages cycling through Yuuri's head.
"...into his enemy's territory. Berthold was a noble Maou, and a skilled warrior, very efficient with his long, true..."
Yuuri's eyes scanned the room for escape. The door? Too obvious. The window? Too dangerous. His eyes flitted over Murata's face, but Murata only smiled that knowing smile of his and turned back to his tea.
"...his long, true sword. Yet, tragically, Your Majesty, these skills were not enough to protect him from the cruel mistress that can become of a man's too-large..."
Yuuri scowled at Murata.
"...too-large undergarments."
Yuuri's head popped up. "His what?"
Gunter's lower lip trembled and he dabbed at his teary eyes. "It seems that Berthold had been courting one of the maids in the castle and, in his attempts to, ah, impress her, he ordered the procurement of undergarments that were too large. And such roomy, ah, comfort, is not to one's advantage when handling a horse. He...he fell and was defeated in humiliating fashion."
Murata grinned into his his tea as Yuuri sputtered about the place. He didn't care what the history books said. He'd been there. He'd seen the very decree, had ensured its precise wording himself. He was the strategist, after all. If he occasionally used that to satisfy his own desires...
He remembered rather liking the knowledge that when Shinou, sweet Shinou, rushed into battle, he did so wearing the thong of Murata's own choosing.